Mass Effect: First Contact
by Kralizec314
Summary: The year is 2597, ten years after the Insurrection came to an end, and the UNSC now reign supreme over all Humans in the galaxy. But now, the Outer Colony of Harvest has come under attack from a conquering alliance of alien races; the UNSC must resist them and claim it's place in the galaxy.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Halo or Mass Effect.**

* * *

 **Prologue**

 **August 17th, 2597 (Military Calendar)**

 **UAC Exploratory Vessel Bam!**

 **Uncharted Star System**

Captain Chinh Phan contemplated the alien device displayed on the main view screen; a device which his Chief Science Officer Adrianna Costanzo, and her subordinates, had been studying for the last two weeks. The device was massive, easily dwarfing his small ship at fifteen kilometres; just looking at it made him feel small, like an ant beholding the workmanship of superior lifeforms. It was shaped like a fork, with two curving arms surrounding a set of rings in the centre. Unlike the rugged, practical design of Human structures and spacecraft, the device was rather pleasing to look at. Clearly, its creators must have preferred form over function.

Aliens.

This device, right before his ship, is absolute, undeniable, physical proof of an alien civilization. Over the generations of exploring and colonizing the galaxy, there had been rumours of people discovering alien ruins and recovering artefacts all across Human Space, but mostly in the Outer Colonies; unfortunately, there has never been any proof. Some conspiracy theorists point fingers at the UNSC and accuse them of hoarding alien artefacts and covering up the discoveries. Chinh isn't one of them, but if it were proved to be true, then he wouldn't be completely shocked, as the blasted UNSC pricks just have to control everything, the greedy bastards. The UNSC won't be getting their grubby hands on this device if Chinh has anything to say about it. This giant, floating tuning fork is now property of the Union Aerospace Corporation, and if the UNSC don't like it, they can go suck on it!

Still, as much as Chinh is happy that he and his crew discovered evidence of an alien civilization, he would have much preferred to turn back to Known Space and report his findings to his superiors, and let them send someone else to study it, but his shipboard A.I, Mia, advised his superiors would be much happier (and more likely to give him and his crew a substantial bonus) if they simply did all the legwork now, and get it over and done with; this way, the UAC won't have to waste time sending another expedition to the star system, and the Bam! can continue exploring the local star systems beyond Human Space.

Chinh sighed longingly, as he thought on his mission, the very reason they're out here in the first place: exploring new regions of the galaxy for Humans to one day inhabit. With a greater understanding of the physics behind slipstream travel, and improvements to the slipspace drives themselves, starships can now travel at 31.5 light years per-day, significantly faster than pre-Insurrection era starships and so, the UAC wants to "stretch its legs" a bit, and discover just what's on the horizon. And although the UNSC isn't now interested in colonizing new regions of space, as they're more concerned with repairing the damage to colonial infrastructure caused during the Insurrection, the UACs Board of Directors figure that their attitudes will change in the decades to come, and when that happens, the UAC wants a head start against their many competitors, mainly Liang-Dortmund.

This star system was the first that the Bam! had travelled to, and already, they had made an extraordinary discovery with the alien device. The system, located 4.7 light years away from Harvest, the furthest colony from Earth, was an ordinary system; Yellow Dwarf star, nine planets, and one large asteroid belt between the sixth and seventh planets. The fifth planet from the star was a natural garden world, but its ecosystem is poisonous to Human physiology, so the UAC would most likely discard it as a future colonization prospect. A pity, really; natural garden worlds are few and far between, and terra-forming planets and moons takes time and costs a fortune.

Theirs is a deep-space mission; the Bam! is loaded up with enough food and water to sustain the crew of forty people for six-months. Three months to explore and survey every star system within reach beyond Human Space, and three months for the return journey. Of course, they are but one ship in an exploration fleet that numbers in the dozens, and the amount of space they can cover in three months, is quite staggering. According to projections from UAC Smart , the number of outposts that the exploratory fleet can establish will greatly dwarf the number of colonies settled by the UNSC in two hundred years of space travel, a veritable gold mine for the UAC, should their investment pay off whenever the UNSC decide to begin colonization again.

Personally, Chinh thinks it's a waste of time and money for the UAC to invest in establishing new outposts, but he would never say that to his employers. And while he would never like, nor approve of the UNSC, Chinh does think that they are wise to halt settling new colonies. If there's one thing to be learned from the Insurrection, it's that Humanity pushed too far and too fast, with their frontier colonies months away from Earth's central authority. This made the Outer Colonies the perfect place for insurgents and pirates to set up shop and cause trouble.

Chinh shuddered. Just thinking about pirates makes his skin crawl, as it brings up too many bad memories of the "Age of Piracy" back in the 2560s. With their resources and manpower dwindling, the UNSC had no choice but to withdraw from the Outer Colonies. This left many UNSC-loyal Outer Colonies to the mercy of pirates; desperate to escape to the Inner Colonies, Chinh, then fourteen years old, his seventeen year old sister, Ai', and their parents acquired passage on an old freighter along with two-hundred other refugees, and fled from their home-colony, New Saigon.

Chinh remembered huddling with his family in the cramped cargo hold, masses of people pressing in around him, the stink of their unwashed bodies, after days confined inside the freighter, cloying his senses, thinking they'd be safe soon enough. They were wrong, of course. The pirates found them, chased down the freighter the way a wolf pounces on a rabbit, sent boarding parties and took everyone hostage. And that's when the "fun" began, and on that terrible day, Chinh understood that evil truly existed in the Universe. When all was over and done with, with many of the refugees traumatized by their captors' predations, the pirates left the freighter behind, still fully functional and capable of completing the journey to the Inner Colonies, and abducted Ai' and a dozen other young girls, never to be seen again.

Bastards, thought Chinh, gritting his teeth. No doubt the blasted swine sold Ai' to the sex trade which became ever more so prevalent throughout the Outer Colonies during the Age of Piracy. Ai's abduction left a hole in his heart, and even now, thirty-seven years later, the wound still feels fresh, still aches.

Chinh unclenched his fists, closed his eyes and took a deep breath, calming himself; it does not do to dwell on unpleasant memories, especially of Ai'. It's best to simply focus on the here and now.

"Captain?"

Chinh opened his eyes, and looked to his right, where Costanzo stood, shifting on her feet, too excited to keep still. "Yes, Costanzo, what do you have for me?"

"Well, the device is made from a seemingly invincible, unknown alloy," her voice crisp and cool, concealing the excitement within her. "It doesn't emit heat or radiation, it seems to be tens of thousands of years old, and amazingly, it's still functional." Now Costanzo's voice became ever more animated. "In fact, I think Mia and I can activate it."

Chinh raised his eyebrows. "Is that wise? I doubt that whatever species built this device would have wanted us or anyone else to go about playing around with their toys."

"You needn't worry about that, Captain," chimed in Mia, her disembodied voice reassuring. "Science Officer Costanzo's estimate concerning the age of the device is rather conservative; I'd say the device is millions of years old. So, whoever, or whatever, built this device must surely be extinct, there can be no other explanation for their absence."

Still Chinh hesitated. "Do we even know what that thing does? Hell, is it even safe to use? For all we know, it could be some giant, interstellar space-gun capable of destroying stars thousands of light years away."

Costanzo frowned. "While it's true that we don't know what it does, we don't think it's dangerous. Mia suspects that it might be some kind of Interstellar Communication device, which is supported by the existence of sensor nodes on the device, but we can't really be sure unless we activate it."

Chinh breathed in deeply. "Very well, you've convinced me", he said resolutely, nodding to Costanzo. "After two weeks of being stuck in this system, I'd like nothing more than to be well shot of the device, but I'm just as curious as you and everyone else about it. Do what you need to do." Nodding, Costanzo sat down at her duty station and began working on her terminal. "Romanov," Chinh directed his attention to his Communications Officer, Alexandra Romanov. "Patch me through the ship, I need to inform every one of the situation."

'Patching you through now, Captain," reported Romanov, her voice cold and emotionless. "Speak when ready."

Chinh cleared his throat. "Attention crew, this is the Captain speaking. After two weeks of boredom for everyone who isn't a member of Costanzo's science team, we are ready to activate the alien device and discover just what the hell it is and what it does. We are, all of us, about to make history as we activate this device. There's no telling what will happen, so strap yourselves in and stay alert. That is all." Short and to the point; Chinh was never one for inspirational, flowery speeches.

"Sir, we'll need to get closer to the device," informed Mia. "At a distance of approximately five kilometres."

Chinh nodded. "Understood. Mr Bello? Steady as she goes."

"Right," acknowledged his Navigation Officer, Jabari Bello, who promptly began to manipulate the Nav terminal, causing the ship to cruise steadily to the device.

"So, what do we do, exactly?" Chinh asked Costanzo, who was still fixated on her terminal.

"Simple, really," Costanzo stated confidently. "We just need to send an activation signal, the sensor nodes will pick it up, and the device will activate."

"Yes, very simple," agreed Chinh sarcastically. "So simple, it only took you two weeks to figure it out." Costanzo blushed as the bridge crew snickered at her humiliation.

"In her defence, sir, it is alien technology," chipped in Mia, her tone annoyed, as though she herself was insulted. Most likely she was justified feeling so, as she was involved in studying the device as well. "The device is unlike anything ever made by Man; it's unreasonable to expect our scientists to understand it after ten minutes of tinkering."

Chinh shrugged. "Whatever, just get on with it."

"All right, sending signal now," announced Costanzo, her prior embarrassment forgotten in favour of anticipation. Upon receiving the signal, the device immediately sprung to life, its two rings beginning to spin, picking up speed until the core began to pulsate with light. Chinh simply gaped in awe as the great, monolithic device came to life for the first time in eons.

"Captain, I'm receiving a transmission from the device," stated Mia, sounding surprised. "It seems to want data on the mass of our ship."

Chinh cocked his left eyebrow. "Oh, why would it want to know such a thing? And, do we now, at least, know what the device does; has its, er, 'computer', informed us?"

Costanzo shook her head. "That's still unknown, Captain. But, maybe if we give it the data it wants, we'll find out."

Chinh narrowed his eyes at the device on-screen. Even after activating the blasted thing, they're still ignorant to its primary function. Chinh now had a choice to make: he could simply return to UAC headquarters and report his findings to them and let sleeping dragons lie, or recklessly venture further, leaping into the unknown.

Chinh sighed. They've already come this far, might as well go all the way. "Do it."

Complying, Mia sent the data to the device and the effects were immediate; blue light from the device's core reached out and enveloped the Bam! , causing it to shudder violently as it is pulled towards the device.

Strapping himself into his command chair, Chinh opened up a ship-wide comm and shouted: "All hands brace!" The star-filled blackness of the void of disappeared amidst the blinding blue light from the device, and Chinh was pulled back to his seat as the ship was flung forward. And then, just as suddenly, he was thrown forward, the straps of his seat stopping him from falling flat on his face, as the light faded and the ship was left drifting in space.

Chinh groaned. "Is everyone still in one piece?" he called out to the bridge crew. When everyone responded in the affirmative, he then addressed Mia: "So, what's up? What did that device do?"

"I have my suspicions, but I need Sensors Operator Dubois to scan the system," answered Mia, and Chinh turned to Astrid Dubois, a woman from the Outer Colony Meridian, and said: "Do it."

"Er, right away," she answered, straightening her hair, which was in disarray from the disturbance caused by the device, and began operating on her terminal. After several minutes (scanning an entire star system, billions of kilometres from one end to the other, is not instantaneous), she gasped and turned her wide eyes to Chinh: "Sir, we're in a completely different star system!"

"Are you sure!?"

"Absolutely," she affirmed confidently. "This system has a Red Giant star, three planets and two asteroid belts. In addition, the device behind us is inside a Lagrange Point between the third planet, and its moon, whereas the device we activated was located on the edge of the system."

Her announcement was met with stunned silence, which was broken by Mia's smug voice: "As I suspected, the device we activated seems to be a part of an interstellar transit system, transporting us, instantaneously, from one region of the galaxy, to another. Truly, this is a great discovery, which will benefit Humanity for generations to come."

Chinh had to agree with that. A device which can provide instantaneous transport for starships throughout the vastness of the galaxy. If it could be reverse-engineered, it could revolutionize the UNSCs colonial policies; as Human Space will inevitably grow larger, stretching across hundreds, even thousands, of light years, an interstellar transit system would make it easier for the UNSC to police and protect frontier colonies, as it would shorten travel times by a significant margin. Chinh now felt fully justified in using the device; he and his crew will surely go down in history for this discovery.

"Captain!"

Interrupted from his thoughts, Chinh looked towards Dubois, who appeared to be agitated. "What is it?"

"Sir, I'm detecting five unknown starships sixty-seven thousand and five-hundred kilometres away, and approaching us at three-hundred and seventy-five kilometres per second. Estimated Time of Arrival at three minutes."

Stunned silence permeated the bridge.

Could it be? Thought Chinh, nervously. First contact?

"That's close enough for a visual," Chinh said to Mia. "On screen."

The view screen switched to an image of a small group of ships, with thousands of kilometres of open space between their formations. The ships were unlike anything he'd seen before, sleek and shiny, shaped like white, metallic birds of prey, gliding gracefully through the void.

Gliding towards the Bam!

Chinh was alarmed and dismayed by the ships closing in, as he understood that he and his crew were trespassing.

"Mr Bello!" he barked, startling everyone on the bridge. "Turn this ship around and head towards the device." Not waiting to see if Bello was obeying his order, Chinh immediately turned to Costanzo: "I want you to signal the device to send us back to Human Space!"

"But, sir-"

"Do it now," he insisted urgently, his unnaturally aggressive tone whipping the bridge crew into a frenzy of compliance. Soon enough, Bello had turned the ship around and was already on the way to the device, when Dubois called out again: "Sir, the unknown ships have increased acceleration to fifteen-hundred kilometres per second, and will overtake us in thirty seconds!"

Their flight was hopeless: as soon as the ships were in range, they fired their bizarre weapons at the Bam!s thrusters, leaving the ship to drift in the void while the great, monstrous sharks circled around the little, helpless fish, waiting to be devoured.

"Captain," alerted Mia tonelessly. "Unknown ships are sending boarding craft. ETA: sixty-seconds." At this announcement, Chinh felt a rising wave of despair build up inside him; it's just like the pirate hijacking all-over again! Only this time, they are at the mercy of aliens. How would they treat him and his crew? Would they observe some form of ethical treatment? Unlikely; they're a completely different species, they'll probably see Chinh and his crew as animals, and treat them as such. Would they be angry at them tampering with their transit device? Chinh had no doubt whatsoever that these unknowns created the device: after all, it led to a star system under their control.

"Twenty seconds."

Chinh looked over at his bridge crew, observed their subdued, despondent appearances. Costanzo. Dubois. Bello. Romanov. All of them, good people, trying to get by in these dangerous times as best they can, undeserving of whatever terrible retribution these creatures will visit upon them for daring to touch their technology. Chinh wished he could do something to help them; after all, the decision to activate the device was his to make, and the responsibility for the consequences, his to bear.

"Five seconds."

And finally, Chinh thought of his poor sister Ai', thought of her through the highways of distant memories decades past. Remembered her being bound and gagged, dragged away by the pirates, her cheeks tear-stained, her eyes wide with helplessness and desperation as she looked back at him. And suddenly, with perfect clarity, Chinh understood what he could do to help his crew; as Captain, it is well within his authority and abilities to achieve, but to do so would mean death, for himself and his crew. Could he really do it?

"Sir, boarders have reached the airlock and have begun breaching procedures."

 _I'm sorry everyone_ , thought Chinh resolutely. _But this is the only way I can think to help you._

* * *

 **August 19th, 2657 G.S.T (Galactic Standard Time)**

 **Serpent Nebula**

 **Widow System**

 **Citadel**

Captain Tonn Actuss felt nervous, due to the circumstances behind his presence in the room, as well as being surrounded by such important people as these; High Admiral Quane Xannix, supreme commander of the Turian Hierarchy Navy, Director Paen, commander of the Salarian Special Tasks Group, and Matriarch Aethyta, Republican military consultant, and finally, all three Citadel Councillors, the most politically powerful people in the Known Galaxy.

Councillor Tevos, the Asari representative, is a Matriarch eight-hundred and sixty-three years old. Wise and proud, she will publically speak of the need for interspecies cooperation and preserving peace and stability for all member Races of Citadel Space, but will always look after the welfare of the Asari people, and the interests of the Republics, first and foremost.

Councillor Bellonia, the Turian representative, is the junior member of the Council, having joined only two years ago. At the age of thirty-nine, she is a military-woman, through and through, and will always look for a military solution to problems.

Councillor Anotus, the Salarian representative, is forty-one years old and nearing the end of his life. Like most Salarians, he prefers his wars won before they begin.

The three Councillors, High Admiral Xannix, Director Paen, Matriarch Aethyta, and Captain Tonn Actuss were all hidden away in a private chamber, deep within the Citadel, the very heart of the civilized galaxy.

"So, Admiral Xannix, what's the big emergency?" queried Councillor Bellonia, eyeing her old mentor curiously. While the High Admiral appeared to be calm and collected, Bellonia knew him well enough to see that he was agitated and uneasy. "From the sound of your message, you seemed to insinuate that the security of the galaxy is at stake. Is it the Yahg? Have they begun a full-scale invasion of the Attican Traverse?"

At his words, a dark cloud of anxiety swept over everyone in the chamber. The Yahg are, without a doubt, the single greatest threat to Citadel Space since the Krogan Rebellions; they are an innovative, cunning, tenacious, ruthless, and aggressive alien empire whose territories within the Dead Zones (the space between the systems connected to the Mass Relays) are continuously expanding and growing stronger. After First Contact five-hundred years ago, there have been a number of raids, skirmishes, and border clashes with the Yahg all throughout the Attican Traverse and Skyllian Verge, with the Batarian Hegemony's colonies and outposts suffering the brunt of the Yahg's belligerence.

But over the past several decades, Yahg incursions have grown steadily worse, with their raiders deploying species-specific bio-weapons, wiping out entire colonial populations and leaving the infrastructure intact for the Yahg to capture. Of course, conquered colonies are always reclaimed eventually by the Citadel Defence Force and the Hegemony Navy, but the Yahg's strategy of racial genocide has caused morale to plummet.

In addition, the Yahg have also conquered two unknown races from within their region of space, the Raloi and the Zholan, and have assimilated them into their armed forces. The Raloi are a race of avians, similar to the Turians, and their natural speed, agility and keen senses makes them perfect as scouts and as a counter to the Salarians' similar physical attributes. The Zholan are a race of mammals that are physically on par with the Turians and the Batarians, and they possess extraordinary genetic and physiological similarities to the Asari; the only differences is that the Zholan are carnivorous, lack head crests, and their bodies are covered in thick, white fur. They are used primarily as front-line troops, to minimize Yahg casualties in battle.

Another advantage the Yahg Empire has is that they have all the attributes that each of the Council Races possesses; their intelligence agency is on par with the STG, their economy is almost as large as the Asari's, and is still growing, they have advanced technology, and raw military power. This makes the Yahg a peer competitor, something which the Citadel Council has never encountered before; the Rachni were too single-minded and inflexible, lacking imagination and were thus vulnerable to unconventional tactics. The Krogan could never sustain an economy for an extended period of time without causing irreparable damage due to infighting. And the Terminus Systems are too disunited to pose a serious threat to the combined forces of the Citadel Council.

However, despite their advantages, the Yahg have never pushed beyond the Attican Traverse or Skyllian Verge, and have never managed to launch an assault into Inner Council Space. And despite centuries of peace and complacency, the Citadel Council were quick to adapt to counter the new threat; they've adopted the Yahg's Star-Hopping method of exploration, enabling them to establish outposts in the Dead Zones. The Asari Republics, as of 2284 G.S.T, ratified the Republic Militarization Act, conscripting Asari Maidens and increasing the number of Asari Commandoes ten-fold. The Krogan, after being taken in by the Turian Hierarchy as a Client Race, have stationed thousands of their troops on worlds bordering the Attican Traverse, to defend against the Yahg.

It has become common opinion among the people that a Council-Yahg War is inevitable, and when it does happen, it will be the most devastating war in Galactic History, with no chance of victory. Even the most optimistic projections indicate that a Council-Yahg War would result in a bloody stalemate, but with their military power crippled for decades to come, leaving them vulnerable to the predations of pirates and slaver from the Terminus Systems.

It's simply too terrible to contemplate.

"Fortunately not, Councillor Bellonia," assured High Admiral Xannix, holding his palms up in a calming gesture. "There is, however, a new threat to our authority throughout the galaxy." He then gestured to Tonn Actuss. "The Captain here encountered a new space-faring race-one which activated a dormant Mass Relay."

All eyes turned to Tonn, who gulped and relayed his experience to the Council: Just two days ago, I was in command of a scouting flotilla, patrolling a number of fringe systems throughout Inner Council Space. My patrol group was in system RG2079, when the Mass Relay in-system, Relay 314, activated. After several minutes, an unknown starship exited, and held position several hundred kilometres from the Relay."

Councillor Anotus eyed him curiously. "What was this ship like? Describe it for us."

Tonn complied. "It was rather small, at around ninety-eight metres in length. Its hull was made of some molecularly-enhanced titanium unlike any fabricated in Citadel Space. There wasn't any sign of ship-mounted weapons, which leads me to believe it was a civilian vessel, most likely used for exploration. But the interesting thing about the ship was that our sensors didn't detect any trace of Element Zero."

Stunned silence reigned in the chamber. A starship which doesn't utilize Eezo? Unthinkable. Preposterous! Without Eezo, starships can't travel faster-than-light, they can't have artificial gravity, kinetic barriers of Mass Accelerator Cannons. It is a crutch, which all the space-faring races of the Galaxy lean on, not just the Citadel Council and Terminus Systems, but even the Yahg Empire as well.

"This ship," began Councillor Tevos hesitantly. "Did it display FTL capabilities?"

"No, Madam Councillor," replied Tonn respectfully. "We only observed it using sub-light propulsion."

"Well, then," sighed Councillor Bellonia in relief. "Most likely, that ship was from a species recently arisen from their homeworld, and taking their first, tentative steps out into the galaxy." Her relief was understandable; a species confined to their home system would be easier to intimidate and control, not too much of a threat. She then turned back to Tonn. "Please, Captain. Continue with your account."

Tonn took a deep breath. Most likely, what he has to say next will be ill-received; the High Admiral had already chewed him out on the matter. "I ordered my flotilla to intercept and disable the spacecraft, as they had violated Citadel Council law in activating the dormant Mass Relay. The unknown ship detected our approach and turned to flee back through the Relay, and one of my frigates opened fire at the ship's thrusters, disabling it. I then ordered several teams of Hierarchy Marines to board the vessel and round up the crew for interrogation." And here, Tonn's voice took on a bitter edge. "Unfortunately, the crew of the unknown ship responded to our boarding attempts by activating their ships self-destruct sequence, destroying themselves, and the boarding parties."

Councillor Bellonia cursed vehemently, shaking her head. "There was no need for such an extreme response; what were those creatures thinking, that they'd be tortured to death?"

"It's likely that they were thinking that," Councillor Tevos was addressing Bellonia, but her eyes were on Tonn, her tone cold and accusing. "After all, Captain Actuss had attacked them, without any attempts to contact them. Such an aggressive act would speak clearly of ill-intent; they'd be perfectly justified in thinking they'd be treated harshly."

"This isn't the time for recriminations, but for action," asserted Councillor Anotus. "What we need is information on this species-homeworld's location, number of colonies, sphere of influence, tech level, military capabilities; even the name of their race would be helpful." He then turned his beady eyes to Tonn. "Was there nothing to be salvaged from the ship's remains?"

"We salvaged pieces of the ship's hull, but nothing else," replied Tonn dejectedly. "Nothing was left intact; we haven't even recovered the bodies of the boarding parties."

"A pity," stated Director Paen, his voice devoid of emotion. "The best course of action would be to send an STG team to travel through the Relay and explore the neighbouring star systems, to try and locate either their homeworld, or a colony, and gather intelligence on them before we do anything else."

Councillor Bellonia narrowed her eyes at Paen. "While I agree that we need to gather intel on this race, it could be months before the STG discover anything of value, and by then it might be too late. These creatures activated a dormant Mass Relay, and for all we know, such practices could be standard procedure for them. They could be activating Mass Relays all over the galaxy even as we speak. We are the Citadel Council, and we must make it clear to all the space-faring races of the galaxy that our laws and conventions must be followed. It's bad enough that we have the Yahg defying our authority; to have another race come into our space and do as they please, without consequences, will damage our reputation throughout the galaxy even further. These aliens must be brought to heel, for their own good, and that of the galaxy."

Councillor Tevos rubbed her temples, as though she was suffering from a migraine. "So, you want a war, is that it?"

"No, not a war," assured Xannix, his tone conciliatory. "Merely, a Pacification Campaign, a slap on the wrist. By activating Mass Relays, these aliens could unleash a Galactic-scale catastrophe and we must stop them from threatening our existence. We've already have enough enemies in the galaxy; we don't need these ignorant aliens to create more for us."

Tevos sighed in aggravation. "It is true that these unknowns are breaking our laws, laws which were put into place for good reason, but the fact of the matter, is that these aliens are not associated with the Citadel Council, or the Terminus Systems, and until they are, we have no authority over them, and they have no obligation to obey our laws. Now, the destruction of their spacecraft can easily be brushed aside as a simple misunderstanding (they were trespassing in our space, an inevitability during first contact situations), but if we were to send military assets into their space with the intention of giving them a 'slap on the wrist,' then such an aggressive act can be seen as an act of war, and could very well result in precisely the kind of 'Galactic-scale' catastrophe you seek to prevent."

Matriarch Aethyta now added her two credits: "And if we provoke these aliens into a full-scale war, then we'll need to devote the majority of our fleets to combat them in their space." Her voice now took on a cold, abrasive tone. "Now what do you suppose would happen if the Terminus Systems and the Yahg Empire were to discover that the CDF, the largest and most powerful Navy in the known galaxy, is busy fighting a war of conquest, elsewhere, on the other end of the galaxy? The Yahg would invade the Attican Traverse en masse and overwhelm the Batarians, as they won't last long without Council support; meanwhile, every pirate and slaver from the Terminus Systems will run rampant throughout Council Space, invading every world and enslaving their populations, while bringing interstellar commerce to a complete standstill, eventually causing the galactic economy to collapse and bringing an end to the Citadel Council, which has ruled the known galaxy for two-and-a-half-thousand years!"

Silence followed her declaration, as they all contemplated her words of wisdom-the wisdom of an Asari Matriarch who, for centuries, has endured all the trials and tribulations that the galaxy has to offer, in all its cosmic indifference.

Councillor Tevos then picked up from where she left off: "The simplest solution to this problem is to make contact with this new race and impress upon them the dangers of activating Mass Relays, and hopefully convince them to halt their reckless actions, while gaining a new ally. It's the path of least bloodshed, and it will have little negative, long-term consequences in whatever relations we'll have with this race in the future."

"But that is not to say, however," interjected Matriarch Aethyta, her face hard. "That we shouldn't arm one hand, while offering the other. If this new race proves to be hostile and rejects our overtures, then a military expedition aimed at pacifying them may well be necessary, but only as a last resort."

With Councillor Tevos in favour of diplomacy, and Councillor Bellonia in favour of military intervention, it falls to Councillor Anotus to decide the vote's outcome. "Councillor Tevos," he began hesitantly, trying to find the right words to placate her. "While I understand your perspective, I must agree with Councillor Bellonia. These aliens represent a clear and present threat to the galactic community, and so, I believe it is in our best interests to initiate a police action against this race, so that we might provide guidance and discipline to them."

Councillor Tevos gave a disappointed sigh in response, while Matriarch Tevos simply smirked ruefully at her and said, with a great deal of sarcasm: "Isn't democracy a lovely thing?"

* * *

 **August 22nd, 2657 G.S.T**

 **Tryxus Cluster**

 **System RG2079**

 **Citadel Council Pacification Fleet**

It was a punitive force heading towards Relay 314, less than two per cent of the total number of warships at the disposal of the Asari, Salarians and Turians. The Asari Republics had provided a mere thirteen warships; three cruisers, and ten frigates, along with over seven-thousand Asari Commandoes. The Salarian Union provided slightly more warships, numbering at twenty-five; five cruisers, eighteen frigates and two corvettes, carrying twelve-and-a-half-thousand STG Operatives. But, as always, it was the Turian Hierarchy that went above and beyond the call of duty, and provided the most warships to the operation. Fifty-two warships; one dreadnought, three heavy cruisers, seven light cruisers, thirteen heavy frigates, and twenty-eight light frigates, all-together carrying a complement of thirty-thousand Turian Hierarchy Marines. And it wasn't just warships; there are four troop transports, carrying twenty-thousand Turian Hierarchy Marines, and eighty-thousand Krogan Shock Troopers. In addition, there are also six resupply ships, with enough fuel, food and water to sustain the fleet, crew and soldiers for a month in deep space, far away from any supply lines.

This Pacification Fleet, called as such by the Citadel Council, is commanded by Vice Admiral Viktor Cassius, sitting calmly in his private quarters, on the dreadnought Palavan's Fist, reviewing his orders from the Citadel Council; if Relay 314 leads to the newcomers' home system, then a show of force on their homeworld should be sufficient to cow their leaders into submission. The world, and its inhabitants, can then be annexed into the Turian Hierarchy as a Client Race. But if they merely discover a colony, then they'll just destroy all orbital threats, invade and occupy the colony, and pacify the population. With the colony under control, the Citadel Council would be able to negotiate from a position of strength, hopefully making the aliens more amenable to their demands. When all is said and done, another ace will have bent the knee to the Citadel.

 _Which is how things ought to be_ , thought Viktor contemptuously. _And it would serve these creatures right, to be slapped down like this just as they were reaching for the stars. There is no doubt that the newcomers are just now beginning to explore the boundaries of their home system; the lack of Element Zero on their spacecraft is proof that they haven't breached the interstellar threshold. It's just galling, to have these creatures sailing around in their ramshackle, unsightly ships, activating Mass Relays without even considering the dangers involved. What if that Relay had led into Yahg Space? These creatures would have been quickly conquered and forced into servitude, just like the Raloi and the Zholan._

Viktor sighed. _There I go again, thinking about the Yahg._

Thinking about the Yahg makes Viktor think about his daughter, Sjornya, dead for eleven years, killed on the Batarian frontier colony, Khandia. It was her first combat mission after graduating from boot camp, and she didn't even get to fight; she and her entire platoon were wiped out when the Yahg deployed their bioweapons. The bastards couldn't even give her a proper death!

 _Enough!_

Viktor cleared his head of thoughts about Sjornya and her undignified death, and thought about the mission at hand: in just two hours, his fleet will pass through Relay 314, and enter the newcomers' home system. And then, the newcomer's will be subjugated and assimilated into the Turian Hierarchy, with or without their consent.

Idly, Viktor wondered if the newcomer's were any good at fighting; even though the Krogan are useful against the Yahg, Turians can never have too much cannon fodder to throw into the meat grinder.

* * *

 **Author's Note.**

 **Well, here's the first chapter. Be sure to tell me what you think: Like it? Hate it?**

 **Just in case none of you know, Bam! was the codename for Halo, before Bungie came up with it's awesome title. For all newcomers who have discovered this fic before the Codex, then be sure to read that if you come across anything you don't understand. "Star-Hopping is described in detail in the codex. My character, Chinh Phan, is a reference to all the vietnamese refugees who fled from the vietnam war, and were victimized by pirates. I don't go into detail about what the pirates did on the freighter in my story, because as a generalist storyteller, I like to leave some things to the reader's imaginations. And Captain Phan's off-hand comment about an interstellar gun capable of blowing up stars is in no way, whatsoever, foreshadowing for a Forerunner super-weapon that will be discovered some time in the very distant future. Seriously.**

 **I hope that I've portrayed the Council as reasonable; even though they're going to launch a war of conquest against an unknown race, I wanted them to have valid reasons for doing so. The presence of an aggressive, outside enemy (the Yahg) has made them so much more defensive, and less complacent; so if you spot any kind of technology that the Citadel Forces shouldn't have, then I can simply say that it was developed to fight against the Yahg, or salvaged from them. Also, for those who've read my Codex and know about the other "Human" races which I will introduce in later stories, the Zholan are one of them, and they are furry because they evolved on an ice planet. But I won't go into more detail about them until my third story, which will be about the Council-Yahg War.**

 **So long, and thanks for all the fish!**


	2. Chapter 1: Harvest

**Disclaimer: I do not own Halo or Mass Effect.**

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Harvest**

 **August 3rd, 2597 (Military Calendar)**

 **UNSC Transport Romper Stomper**

 **Epsilon Indi System**

 **En route to Harvest**

To dream during cryo-sleep is a bizarre experience. They weren't real dreams; rather, they were a strange intermixing collage of memories and dreams. It's rare for someone to recall their dreams with clarity after waking from cryo-sleep, but when they do, they often spend hours at a time just trying to discern what was reality and what was a distortion of the subconscious mind.

 _Kamille._

Once, this dreamer recalled dreaming a strange sight: a classroom , full of children, all boys except for a girl, with golden-blonde hair and wearing a sapphire-blue dress. Highlighted by a spotlight shining from the ceiling, she was seated at the centre of the room, the object of scorn and derision from her fellow classmates.

 _Kamille Soran._

Another time, the dreamer saw the little blonde girl being cornered by two giants; one, was a man with a shark's grin plastered on his face, poisonous fumes smelling of alcohol puffing out from his lungs, his hands clenched into fists. The other giant was a woman, with a shadow covering her eyes, who couldn't see nor hear the little blonde girl, no matter how loudly she screamed when the grinning giant laid hands on her.

 _My name is Kamille Soran._

The final dream, this dream, was of the blonde girl, not so little anymore, running through a jungle carved from onyx, carrying weapons on her back, weighing her down, while fleeing from a pack of red-eyed dogs. And yet, despite her disadvantages, she escaped her pursuers and was accepted into the brotherhood of state-sanctioned murderers. This was the one dream which granted Kamille happiness and pride.

Too bad that it didn't last long enough.

Private Kamille Soran woke up, the curved hatch of the cryo-pod creaking open, wisps of fog billowing out. His vision blurry, Kamille took a deep breath of the frigid, cold air, and began violently coughing. Struggling out of the cryo-pod, he bent down, with his hands on his knees, and coughed up the bronchial surfactant needed to protect his lungs during cryo-sleep; now that he is awake, it is merely bile that needs to be disposed of, and quickly. Straightening up, he groaned as his joints ached from being on ice for eight days.

Working out the stiffness in his joints, Kamille noticed that the rest of the occupants of the cryo-pods were waking, too. There were five others in the cryo-bay, two men and three women of similar age. Kamille didn't know much about them, except that, like him, they were fresh out of boot camp, and that they'll be serving their first tour of duty together as a squad.

Private Halfrid Dieter is a woman of German descent, judging from her name. Unusually tall for a woman, slightly taller than Kamille, she has short, light-brown hair, greyish-blue eyes, and when the mood strikes her, she has shown to have a kind, motherly smile. Or, at least, what Kamille thought a motherly smile would look like-he wouldn't quite know.

Private Angus Collins is a man with fair skin, dark-brown hair, black eyes, and a lean build. He also displays a stuck-up, pompous attitude; which means, he's either from Earth, an Inner Colony, or he's rich. Kamille would bet a million credits on the latter-that Collins is spoilt and rich. As Kamille, himself, was raised in a wealthy household, he is quite familiar with those types.

Private Brannagh Hickey is a beautiful woman, no doubt about that. With her fair skin, long flaming-red hair, and emerald-green eyes, and ample breast, she is the stuff of dreams, and Kamille has had several already, with her as the star. Though beautiful, she isn't soft by any means; although at the average height for a woman, she's tough enough to give any man a bloody nose and a bruised ego.

Diego Bautista is a man with pitch-black hair cut short, tan-brown skin, and dark-brown, round eyes. He is very tall, standing at over six feet tall, and as strong as a bear. He is notable among the greenhorns for being a devoted Catholic, a dying religion found only on a few frontier colonies.

Private Alkira Djinba is a woman of average height and build, with dark brown skin, tar-black hair pulled into a bun, full, pouting lips, and misty-green eyes. She speaks with a dull, bored voice, and displays a passive, apathetic attitude.

They all quickly got dressed, grabbed their belongings, and filed out of the cryo-bay, heading for the hangar. There, they found a shuttlecraft taking up all the available space in the Romper Stomper's hangar bay.

"Allright, people," called out the shuttle's pilot as Kamille and the others stepped on board. "Sit down, strap in, and hold tight." The shuttle was nearly full, mostly with Army personnel transferring from other postings.

Stowing his gear, Kamille sat in one of the few remaining seats, pulling a U-shaped restraint bar over his shoulders as Halfrid Dieter sat in the seat next to him, the others also filing in and taking their places. Soon enough, the shuttle fired up its engines, lowered won through the airlock in the hangar's floor, and took off, its powerful thrusters propelling the shuttle through the void. Prepared for the long ride down, Kamille took out an old-fashioned book to read, called _Through Hardships, To The_ _Stars_ ; a historical account of the colonial era, when Humanity first began exploring and colonizing the galaxy. For centuries, people have mostly used E-Books to read text, with paper-books going out of style, except for people like Kamille, who enjoy the feel of a book in their hands.

"Do you know anything about Harvest?" Dieter asked, raising her voice so she could be heard above the roar of the engines. Unlike Kamille, she didn't have any way to pass the time, other than to strain her neck to try and get a glimpse of the colony through the cockpit's canopy. Kamille sighed; he would have preferred to read his book, as he isn't the most social type of person. But, then again, he'll be spending months working with this woman, so he might as well try and get to know her, and develop a rapport.

"Quite a bit, actually," Kamille stated, his voice going into 'lecture' mode. This was his element, history. "Harvest is the fourth planet from the star Epsilon Indi; the star itself, is located two-hundred and fifty light years from Sol, inwards along the Orion Arm, towards the Galactic Core, and is the remotest Human-settled star system in the UEGs sphere of influence.

"Colonized in the year 2468, it was settled by people of North American and Scandinavian descent; this has led to many locations on the colony to being named for elements of Norse Mythology. Harvest is renowned throughout the galaxy as one of the UEGs most productive frontier colonies, with the highest per capita of any Outer Colony, and it produces major crops which nourish the inhabitants of five Inner Colonies , such as corn, wheat, watermelons, peaches, apples, grapes, and other products which I can't name off the top of my head." By this point, Dieter was gaping at him, astounded by his accurate and detailed narration, something which caused Kamille no small amount of pride and self-satisfaction.

"In the year 2531, Harvest had the dubious honour of being the first 'ag-world' to come under attack by the New Colonial Alliance during the infamous 'Breadbasket Campaigns.' As Harvest was a peaceful world on the very edge of Human Space, there wasn't anything in the way of a strong fleet presence, and it took nearly a year for the UNSC battle-group Sigma to arrive and relieve the colony; plenty of time for the NCA to trash the farming machinery, burn the crops, pilfer the harvested food, and generally make life tough for the colonists. But, while the NCA was able to get the drop on Harvest, the UNSC had sent battle-groups to other 'ag-worlds', to fortify and protect them, and so, the NCA had to fight tooth and nail across dozens of those colonies for twelve years. Ironically, Harvests misfortune saved other colonies from the same fate, as it served as a warning for the UNSC, who then took decisive action to protect the other ag-worlds from the NCA.

"But, that was merely the first of tragedies to strike at Harvest, as it became a prime target for pirates in the 2560s; with the UNSCs fleet presence non-existent in the Outer Colonies, Harvest, and many other valuable colonies, became the private fiefdoms of pirate warlords. Real nasty bastards, they were." At the mention of pirates, Dieter's face tightened, and Kamille decided to change the subject; if his assumptions about her Germanic ancestry are correct, then it's highly likely that she's from the Outer Colonies, as that's where most Germans emigrated to. As such, she'd probably know more about pirates than him.

Kamille opened his mouth to continue, but he was cut off by a shudder which wracked the shuttle and rattled Kamille's teeth; the shuttle had begun entering Harvest's atmosphere, flames flickering up the cockpit's canopy. And as quickly as it began, the shuddering stopped, the shuttle's descent smoothed out, and then began to glide serenely through the skies of Harvest.

Kamille exhaled loudly, and then turned to the similarly winded Dieter, who then quirked an eyebrow at him, as if inviting him to continue with his lecture. Kamille smirked, happy to oblige. "Anyway, after the Insurrection ended in 2587, the UNSC labelled the ag-worlds as 'strategically-significant,' and began to beef up their defenses. The end result: Harvest has a rather large military presence, in comparison to other Outer Colonies." Kamille narrowed his eyes in thought. "I think that, in general, Harvest has about one-hundred and eighty-thousand soldiers stationed to protect the colony, which is, I think, about three per cent of the total colonial population on Harvest."

"Wow….just wow," said Dieter, an odd inflection in her voice; Kamille couldn't be sure if she was genuinely impressed or was being sarcastic. "You actually know what you're talking about."

Kamille blushed, pleased by her praise and the awe in her voice. "Well, it helps that I read up on Harvest before going on ice, and that I've got an eidetic memory. I'm also a history buff; if you want to know anything, from the Colonial Era to the Insurrection, then I'm your guy."

"I'll bear that in mind," Dieter said absently, her attention elsewhere.

 _Was she even listening to me, then?_ he thought with a spark of irritation, and then turned his head to the cockpit's canopy, to see what caught her attention. In the distance, far on the horizon, he could make out a city with sparkling, towering skyscrapers.

Utgard is the capital of Harvest, and is composed of ninety per cent of Harvest's total colonial population. Rail lines crisscrossed the city, stretching across the surrounding country-side, connecting the great metropolis with smaller settlements dotted across the main continent. Speeding across the rails were Mag-Lev trains carrying large cargo containers, filled with goods to be transported off-world. Others pulled passenger carriages, filled with commuters on their way to the farmlands.

Kamille then turned his attention to the seven towering space elevators rising up from Utgard, reaching out to the heavens. Regarding these great, monolithic structures made by Human hands, he thought of the old biblical myth about the Tower of Babel: united in rebellion against God, Mankind sought to build a tower that would reach the heavens, but God punished them for their defiance by confusing their languages, and they scattered to all the corners of the Earth. The people of the ancient world always looked up at the night sky and saw the Universe, with its great canopy of stars and galaxies, as the domain of the Gods, and always reached up to them, but always falling short. Kamille had always wondered: was the Tower of Babel a Space Elevator? Did ancient Humans, with their swords and stone pyramids, actually know more than modern Humans give them credit for? How much is myth, and how much is reality?

"Interesting." Shaken from his thoughts, Kamille turned to Dieter, who was observing Utgard with a contemplative look on her face. "The city down there doesn't look like it's gone through a terrible ordeal," she continued, referring to Kamille's overview concerning the hardships forced onto the people of Harvest. "It appears to be thriving." She then turned to Kamille, her eyes penetrating. "It just goes to show, that no matter how many times people get knocked down, they'll keep picking themselves up. Its Human nature, isn't it?"

Kamille didn't answer her, but he most certainly agreed. His eidetic memory is both a gift and a curse, as he can't forget some memories even if he wanted to; as such, Kamille could remember every single time, throughout his childhood and teen years, when _that man_ forced him down to his knees and tried to keep him there, but Kamille always got up, stood tall and proud, and soldiered on.

He felt the shuttle decelerate and saw Harvests Colonial Militia Base, where he'll be stationed for the next six months, and Kamille couldn't shake off the impression that the base was the size of a small city, with its hundreds of buildings, hangars and depots. Roads ran throughout, like a spider's web connecting everything together, and in front of them was an airfield, with several long runways and a tall control tower hanging above, keeping watch over everything. The shuttle slowed, hovered above the landing pad, and lowered itself down; the light above the rear hatch changed from red to green, and the hatch opened, cold air seeping in and cutting him right down to the bone.

"Well, end of the line." said Dieter bracingly, as she freed her shoulders from the restraints; Kamille followed her example, and lined up outside the shuttle with Dieter and the other greenhorns from Onyx. The Army transfers also joined them, forming several rows of six, and began to wait; meanwhile, another group of soldiers filed into the shuttle, which then closed its hatch and lifted off, rising up into the air as it returned to space. For now, they simply needed to wait for someone to come along and point them in the direction of their accommodations, and their commanding officers, who'll then brief them. Some of the transfers began to talk among themselves.

"Jesus fucking Christ almighty, it's freezing!" exclaimed Private Brannagh Hickey, rubbing her bare arms, cold air puffing out of her mouth. "Can't they be a little compassionate and show us newbies some mercy by hurrying the fuck up?"

Private Diego Bautista narrowed his eyes disapprovingly at her, his left hand fiddling with his dog tags, chained around his neck. "Don't use such foul language, please! It's unbecoming."

Hickey then turned to stare incredulously at Bautista, as though she couldn't believe that she was being mildly reproached for such a trivial thing. "I'll fucking talk however I fucking want so fucking deal with it you mild-mannered fuck-tard!" She then glanced at the chain around his neck and noticed that, in addition to his dog tags, there was a crucifix. She then smirked mockingly. "Oh, you're a Catholic, aren't ya? Isn't your religion supposed to be dead as of three-hundred years ago?"

Bautista rolled his eyes. "No religion can truly die so long as there are people to practice it. Catholicism may be limited to a few frontier colonies, but it is hardly dead."

Hickey rolled her eyes. "Whatever. You can believe and worship whatever the fuck you want, just don't go telling me what I can or cannot say. It'll be easier for the both of us."

"I don't like your potty mouth much either, to be honest," Private Angus Collins stated rather pompously, his strange accent startling Hickey and Bautista, both.

"What the fuck is with that shitty accent?" asked Hickey derisively, pinning Collins down with her scornful gaze. "Is that for real?"

Collins sighed, and spoke again in his uptight, pompous voice. "It's a Britannian accent and it's quite common, believe it or not. And don't change the subject: I quite agree with Bautista, that your language is unacceptable. Together, we overrule you."

"It doesn't work like that," Kamille butted in, gaining the threesome's attention, Hickey doing a double-take when she looked at him long and hard. "This isn't a democracy. It's up to our Commanding Officer to decide what appropriate language is, and if he or she decides that it's fine to cuss up a storm, then there's nothing you can do about it."

"Huh," muttered Hickey loudly, hand on her chin, staring quizzically at Kamille. "Your name is Soran, right?" At his nod, she continued. "So, are you a guy? Or a you a woman with a flat chest and a deep voice?"

Kamille blushed, his teeth gritting and face twitching as Collins and Bautista sniggered at him. "I am a man," he replied stiffly, glaring at Hickey. "I am a very manly man who can bench press one-hundred and twenty kilos, sprint at twenty-eight kilometres an hour, and can shoot a man dead from two-hundred meters away." Kamille then relaxed a little and exhaled. "And that's the last time I side with you, Hickey."

For once, Hickey appeared to be mollified. Really, Kamille couldn't blame her for mistaking him for a girl; with his slim but muscular body, short stature, shoulder-length golden-blonde hair, sapphire-blue eyes, and effeminate face, it's inevitable that new acquaintances would mistake him for a girl. Honestly, Kamille ought to be used to it by now. It's been this way for his whole life, from childhood to high school and then boot camp.

But, his androgynous appearance isn't the only thing that galls him, but it's his name as well.

Seriously, what the hell were his parents thinking, calling him _Kamille?_

"Atten-Hut!"

Immediately, Kamille and the others stood at attention, as a Lieutenant and Sergeant walked up to them; after a quick introduction, Kamille and the greenhorns were shown to their accommodations. After that, they were introduced to their Commanding Officer, and the rest of the squad.

Lieutenant Alfred Winchester is a man in his late forties, with a medium build and height, a long face hazel-brown eyes, and brown hair with streaks of white. Just by looking at his weathered face, Kamille knew that he was a veteran, having spent years, no, decades, in combat.

Sergeant Mulan Cheng is the squad's second-in-command, and she was very tall and muscular for a woman; at least, Kamille thought she was a woman. If she were, than she was a most massive gorilla of a woman, hailing from the ancient tribe of amazon warriors. Kamille wouldn't be at all surprised if he were to witness the Sarge taking apart a tank with her bare hands. Once he got past her intimidating appearance, Kamille noticed that she has a round, hard face, sallow skin, almond eyes, and a scar running down her jaw.

All his life, Kamille had cursed his androgyny, but that was before he met Sergeant Mulan Cheng.

Corporal Emil Anders is in his late, with a well-formed head, an oval face with a dark complexion, black eyes, medium build, and is rather handsome. He gives off an air of being stern and competent.

And finally, there is Corporal Chani Bari, a woman in her mid-twenties, lightly built and standing at average height; she has light-brown skin, shoulder-length black hair, and pale blue-eyes. Like Corporal Anders, she appeared to be competent and professional, but unlike him, she seems more relaxed and friendly.

Lieutenant Winchester. Sergeant Cheng. Corporals Anders and Bari. Privates Soran, Dieter, Collins, Hickey, Bautista, and Djinba. All one squad, one happy family.

Lieutenant Winchester stepped forward to address them, Kamille and the others standing stiffly at attention. "All right, kids, welcome to 431-Delta Squad, of the UNSC Army Rangers 108th Regiment." Unlike the sharp whip-crack voice of the Drill Instructor from Onyx, the Lieutenant spoke softly, and yet it had the same paralyzing effect on Kamille, who couldn't, wouldn't, relax in his presence. "For the next six months, you'll be under my command, and your lives will be my responsibility. You may be greenhorns, but follow my lead, and Sergeant Cheng's, and we'll mold you into the finest soldiers in the galaxy; you think boot camp was tough? You have no clue. Harvest, on average, experiences nearly seven pirate raids a year, as it's so far from the UEGs central authority, the pirates see it as an easy target. And with the UNSC Fleet stretched thin throughout the Outer Colonies, they can't post a permanent battle-group in-system. When the pirates come, and they will come, you will experience your first taste of combat, as it will fall to us to defend this colony, and its people, with our very lives.

"However, no matter how tough things get from this point, always remember: you volunteered to be Rangers, knowing full well the hazards. You will always endeavor to uphold the prestige, honor and spirit of the Ranger Regiment. As a Ranger, you have acknowledged the fact that you are an elite soldier who arrives at the very cutting edge of battle, by land, sea, air, or space. Never shall you fail your comrades; you will always keep yourselves mentally alert, physically strong, and morally straight. Gallantly will you show the galaxy that you are a specially selected and well-trained soldier. Energetically, will you meet the enemies of the UNSC; you shall defeat them on the field of battle, for you are better trained and will fight with all your might. Surrender, is a word that is not in your vocabulary, and never will you leave a fallen comrade behind. Readily will you display the intestinal fortitude required to fight on to the Ranger's objective and complete the mission, even though you may be the lone survivor.

"We are Rangers; we lead the way," the Lieutenant surveyed Kamille and the greenhorns with a critical eye. "Do you get me?!"

"Sir, yes sir!"

The Lieutenant smiled, satisfied with their response.

"Welcome to Harvest."

* * *

 **Author's Note.**

 **There's the second chapter, and not much in the way of action; it's just meant to introduce the main character, Kamille Soran, who is like a cross between Kamille Bidan (from Zeta Gundam), Mello (from Death Note), and Damon Baird (from Gears of War). I wasn't clear about his age, so know that he, and all the other greenhorns, are nineteen years of age. The cool thing about my character is that he's a history buff, so he can provide exposition to the other characters and the audience on certain changes to the Universe caused by the Insurrection running its course.**

 **When choosing the squad, I needed to take certain things into consideration: that in the very distant future, the UNSC would be, to my mind, highly unisex, with an equal distribution of Males and Females in the ranks. There's also an abundance of different ethnic groups through the ranks, because the UNSC recruits form all Humans, and they don't segregate by race or sex. So, basically, I've got german, british, irish, aboriginal, chinese, arabic, european and hispanic in the squad; the whole nine yards. It's the same with the multi-racial crew of the Bam! Let me know of what you think of this.**

 **Originally, after meeting with the CO, there was going to be a number of scenes describing the routine and their lives on-base, while providing an overview on the characters and their personalities. But then I thought, why tell, when I can show. I have plenty of time in the rest of the story to display the unique personalities of my characters, rather than just dispassionately describe them. Let their personalities show through their actions and whatnot.**

 **I'm not sure exactly how frequently I'm gonna update; either weekly, or fortnightly, or maybe eve monthly, depending on how busy I am, or how much I'm gonna drag my feet. I do that sometimes. There won't be much action in the next chapter, as that is also set up, depicting the arrival of the Pacification Fleet in Epsilon Indi; expect much egg-on-face for Vice Admiral Viktor Cassius, as he realizes he was wrong in his assumptions about the Humans.**

 **Anyway, read and review, and so long and thanks for all the fish!**


	3. Chapter 2: Arrival

**Disclaimer: I do not own Halo or Mass Effect.**

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 **Chapter 2: Arrival**

 **September 1st, 2657 G.S.T**

 **Unknown System**

 **In orbit of the fifth planet from the local star**

 **Palavan's Fist**

 _Finally_ , thought Vice Admiral Viktor Cassius, with some relief and no small amount of petulance as he read the report provided by the Salarian Corvette, _Silent Steps_ , which had been on a scouting mission. After twelve days parked in orbit over the newly discovered world, they have finally discovered the system where the newcomers are hiding themselves.

Viktor sighed in aggravation. Well did he remember the day when his fleet passed through the relay and into this new star system. The starship utilized by the unknowns had not a single ounce of Eezo; as such, Viktor felt perfectly justified in believing that the newcomers had no FTL capabilities and would thus be confined to their home system. Viktor fully expected to waltz right through the relay, destroy any space-borne defenses, and pacify the enemy homeworld in a devastating shock-and-awe campaign that would leave them speechless and helpless before the combined might of the Citadel Council, and then the Hierarchy would have had a new client race, ready and willing to serve their interests.

Instead, what _did_ happen was they discovered this new star system, devoid of any kind of habitation; no homeworld, no space habitats, no colonies, and no outposts. Nothing whatsoever, except the feelings of extreme humiliation and mortification Viktor felt upon learning that all his (reasonable!) assumptions concerning the newcomers were wrong. Good thing he kept his assumptions to himself, otherwise he would have lost face to his subordinates.

So, with this system uninhabited, Viktor needed to send scouts to nearby star systems, and try and locate the newcomers' homesystem or colony; the fact that one of their ships had traveled to this system and jumped through the relay indicates that they must be close by. The problem with scouting, however, lies in the sheer number of prospective systems that needed to be canvassed, and fuel. When a starship is travelling at interplanetary distances, fuel consumption is quite manageable, almost negligible, but when travelling faster-than-light, fuel is rapidly burned away; so quickly, in fact, that a trip from one end of a star cluster to another can lead to a ship becoming dead in the void. Travelling throughout settled regions of the galaxy is simple, as there are refueling stations in every star system in Citadel Space; but when operating in deep space, resupply ships are of vital importance for a fleet.

But even the resupply ships themselves have only a finite amount of resources to sustain the fleet; expecting the newcomers to be confined to their homesystem, Viktor's superiors assigned only the required amount of resupply ships needed to sustain the fleet performing in-system interplanetary operations. So, the need to explore the surrounding star systems inevitably put a crimp into their plans for the operation. Canvassing the nearby systems with all of the ships at his disposal would ideally be faster, but doing so would most likely waste all of their fuel reserves, and the next convoy of resupply ships aren't due to arrive until nineteen to twenty days from now.

So, Viktor realized that he needed to use his fuel reserves wisely and economically.

Viktor had assigned the two Salarian corvettes to scout the nearby systems and locate any sign of the newcomers. Viktor knew that two starships exploring an entire star cluster would be a time-consuming process, but he felt that it was the best option; corvettes are two-and-a-half times faster than the average Citadel Council starship in FTL, and they consume less fuel. Not only that, but their stealth capabilities would prove useful in gathering Intel on the newcomers once they do find them. But while the corvettes were away on their mission, the Pacification Fleet had nothing to do but idle about in-system. To conserve fuel, Viktor ordered the fleet to enter geosynchronous orbit of the habitable world and shut down primary thrusters, leaving secondary thrusters online to adjust orbital trajectories as needed.

And for twelve days, the fleet waited.

Viktor was pulled out of his musings when the door to the briefing room was opened, and an Asari, Salarian, and Turian entered; the senior officers tasked with commanding the Pacification Fleet, and of ensuring the success of the operation.

Admiral Samus Tua'rann is an Asari matriarch six-hundred and thirty-two years old; she is the commander of the Asari forces in the pacification Fleet, and is a veteran of many anti-piracy campaigns and skirmishes against the Yahg Empire. Promoted to Admiral at the age of three-hundred and fifteen (the youngest Asari Admiral in Galactic history), she became famous for turning back a Yahg Invasion three-hundred and seventeen years ago, with minimal casualties to her battle-group. She is considered to be a tactical genius, never losing a battle.

Admiral Lorik Vazz is a Salarian forty-six years old; he is the commander of the Salarian forces in the Pacification Fleet and is well known to be a strategic genius, tempered by mediocre tactical skills. He has turned down the top position in the Salarian Navy several times due to unknown reasons. Tua'rann and Vazz should be able to complement each other well, with Viktor, who is adept, but not extraordinary at strategy and tactics, holding the reigns.

General Marius Longinus is a tall, powerfully built Turian of fifty-eight years of age and is a near forty year veteran of conflicts all throughout the galaxy. He is well respected by his superiors and subordinates, Turians and Krogan alike. He will be the one tasked with leading the ground engagement to pacify the colony.

"So, Vice Admiral Cassius, what's the deal?" asked Admiral Tua'rann in a civil, but strained voice. No doubt she was irritable from the long wait, but too disciplined to openly gripe about it; or maybe she is sore for being put under his command. As a veteran officer with centuries of experience, she would no doubt be annoyed at being subordinate to him. Unfortunately for her, the Citadel Council calls the shots, and they gave him command. "What's so important that you couldn't simply tell us on the comms channel?"

Viktor straightened, placing his hands behind his back, and dramatically declared: "We found the newcomers." The effect was immediate; Admiral Vazz became suddenly animated, excited that his short life wouldn't be wasted longer in this system, and Admiral Tua'rann stood ever more stiffly in expectation of some action, while General Longinus simply sighed in relief.

"That's good, sir," he stated earnestly. "The Krogan under my command have been getting pretty antsy the past couple of days, frustrated that there weren't any enemies to fight. While I don't think they would have broken discipline and rioted against their officers, it still could have gotten real ugly, real fast."

Viktor nodded. While the Krogan have made great strides, socially and culturally, over the last five-hundred years, they were still a naturally aggressive species, and that aggression required an outlet-mainly through violence, which has made them useful against the Yahg. "Well, they should be happy to know that there'll be action enough for all of us, soon enough."

Viktor then turned to a console in the center of the room, and activated its holographic display; a three-dimensional image of a star system appeared while Tua'rann, Vazz, and Longinus gathered around to get a good look. "This is the star system occupied by the newcomers," he began, getting straight to the heart of the matter. "It is composed of a main sequence star, with five orbiting planets, and a single asteroid belt. Two of the planets are brown dwarfs, while the fourth planet from the star is a habitable world approximately four-thousand and twelve kilometres in diameter."

"Is that their homeworld?" Vazz asked. "Or is it a colony?"

Viktor shook his head. "Unfortunately for us, it is but a colony; the corvette, _Silent Steps_ , could only perform a cursory examination, but from what little they observed, the colony-world is lightly populated."

Vazz paused. "Why wouldn't the corvette perform a more thorough analysis of the target system and colony? Surely, the Captain knows how valuable Intel is to us."

Viktor grimaced. "Somehow, the corvette's stealth systems were penetrated, and the ship was exposed to the enemy's surveillance."

Silence greeted his statement, until Tua'rann spoke up: "Salarian corvettes have the most advanced stealth technology in the known Galaxy, even more efficient than the Yahg's. I can't see how it's possible for some newcomers to do what we-or the Yahg-can't do."

Vazz turned his beady eyes to Tua'rann. "Clearly, it's possible, because we are not _in_ the _known_ _Galaxy_." His statement causing her to blush, Tua'rann turned away, while Vazz continued on matter-of-factly, seemingly unconcerned at the negation of one of their most useful technologies. "Stealth systems only conceal heat emissions; a visual scan, while difficult to perform in the vastness of space, is possible, and can render stealth ineffective." He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "If these newcomers have detected the corvette, then there is a good chance that they'll be preparing for our arrival. They've probably already begun to evacuate their civilians to emergency bunkers, mobilizing their ground forces, and requesting reinforcements from their central governing authority." He sighed dejectedly. "In other words, we've lost the element of surprise."

Viktor then spoke up. "While the corvette didn't detect any space-borne defenses, such as warships and Orbital Defense Platforms, that could change by the time our fleet arrives in-system. Or, it could be days, or weeks, or even months before the newcomers send a fleet to protect the colony. We know that their ships don't use Eezo, and neither does any of their infrastructure in-system, so how these newcomers were able to establish extra-solar colonies is unknown. Most likely, they utilize some unknown method of FTL. How quickly their FTL propels their starships across the void will be a factor in their fleet's response time. So, our goal is to simply conquer the system and colony before reinforcements arrive.

"Here's how I want it done: when the fleet arrives in-system, I want thirty frigates to assume an Orb-Net formation at these co-ordinates." At his prompt, the holographic display highlighted thirty points interspersed throughout the enemy system. With shipboard sensors and scanners limited to lightspeed, it is relatively easy for starships to slip into a star system undetected by patrols, as it would take six hours for an active scan to detect an approaching starship from six billion kilometers away. With these thirty frigates scattered across a star system, constantly scanning and transmitting data to the Palavan's Fist, via FTL Comms, starships can be detected in under twelve or twenty minutes, tops. The Orb-Net Formation, pioneered during the Rachni Wars, ensures efficient fleet operations across astronomical distances without unnecessary time-lag.

"Once that's done, I want the Troop Transports and resupply ships to make an FTL jump to the brown dwarf farthest from the star, and they are to remain there until orbital superiority has been acquired over the colony-world. I want two cruisers-one Asari and one Salarian-to protect those ships. While that is being done, I want the remaining ships to jump to orbit over the colony-world." Viktor began manipulating the controls of the console. "And that brings me to this."

The 3-D map of the system disappeared, and in its place was a new, more fascinating image: at first glance, it seemed to be a simple space station, a hulking mass of titanium floating serenely in the void above the planet. But what caught everyone's attention were the seven cylindrical objects running from the station down to the surface of the colony-world, and soon enough, one of them understood what they were.

"Those are orbital elevators!" exclaimed Vazz excitedly, his eyes wide with amazement, a feeling shared by the others present.

"Truly?" asked Tua'rann wonderingly. "The resources and manpower needed to build them….it would be a colossal undertaking! Why would they build such structures on a lightly populated colony-world? Wouldn't their economy become burdened by them?"

"It's possible that the construction of such structures is as economical for them as building fleets of ground-to-orbit transports is for us," speculated Vazz thoughtfully, hand on chin. "In the long term, it would certainly be cheaper to ferry supplies to orbit via an elevator; you wouldn't need to waste resources on building ships to ferry them to orbit, and can simply focus on building ships to transport them from star to star. It would save up on fuel and resources, which can be better used elsewhere. "

Viktor cleared his throat. "While I'd love to hear your thoughts on the economical merits of Space Elevators later on, right now, I need to discuss with you the strategic significance of the station, and the orbital elevators." When Tua'rann and Vazz straightened and apologized, he went on. "The station is located in equatorial geosynchronous orbit, just right above the colony-world's primary population centre. If we can capture the station, and gain control over its operations, we can then get troops and heavy armour behind enemy lines, and swiftly pacify the city.

"General Longinus," he addressed Marius, who straightened at attention. "I want you to send in your finest squads to capture that station." Marius nodded, while Viktor turned to Tua'ranna. "Admiral, I want you to send in a few squads of your Commandos to support them."

"Aye, aye," she replied, already knowing who would be best for the job. Then an idea struck her. "Sir, perhaps we should capture one of the aliens; I can then have one of my linguistics experts meld with it and attempt to decipher its language. It should make communicating with them easier when it's time to negotiate terms with the natives."

Viktor nodded. "Good idea. In fact, try to salvage whatever technology you can from them; they don't utilize Eezo, so it would be interesting to see what they have up their sleeves. Also, try to recover any bodies; we'll need to study their physiology, figure out their strengths and weaknesses." She nodded.

"With the station captured, and the orbit secured, I'll have my ships identify any and all planetary military bases and destroy them from orbit with tactical kinetic strikes." Viktor then turned to Marius. "After planetary bombardment is complete, I will have the Troop Transports called in and you can begin offloading troops, heavy armour and supplies. Complete deployment should take about two, or three days. You will then have your troops advance across the landscape, capturing settlements and civilian hostages, who will be detained in the safe camps. You will continue your advance until you reach the primary population center, which you will then assault en masse."

General Longinus nodded. "A text-book invasion and pacification campaign,"

"I want you to bear in mind, however," warned Viktor mildly, "that the goal of this operation is to gain leverage over this new race in negotiations, and to do that, we must pacify this colony-world without causing too much damage to the infrastructure, or to diminish its population through unnecessary bloodshed. After all, we wouldn't want this colony-world to lose its value to its owners, now would we?"

Marius stiffened at attention, and his voice was hoarse with determination. "On my honor, sir, I will conquer and pacify this colony-world and deliver it in pristine condition to the Citadel Council!"

"Very good," responded Viktor with an approving nod. He then turned to address all three officers. "We don't find ourselves in a particularly favorable position; this new race simply represents too many unknowns, and the Citadel Council has ordered us to leap before looking. We don't know where this race's homeworld is; we don't know where their colonies are. We don't know how long they've been travelling the stars, or how strong they are, in technology, and biology.

"What we do know, is that they are reckless, and pose a danger to us and to themselves. We are charged with defending trillions of lives in Citadel Space, and by the spirits, we will do so, with our blood, sweat and tears!" Viktor surveyed the officers before him, who straightened ever more at his speech, sure of the truth of his declarations. "Return to your ships and make preparations to head underway; in two hours, we leave for this system's Oort Cloud, where we'll make the jump to the newcomers' system. Transit time should be approximately nine hours and thirty-eight minutes.

"Dismissed!"

* * *

 **September 1st, 2597 (Military Calendar) 0045 Hours**

 **Epsilon Indi, Harvest**

 **Harvest Military Fortress,** **Armory**

Private Kamille Soran stood in the locker area with the rest of his squad of Rangers, putting on his Ranger Battle Dress Uniform, clipping the heavy chest piece into place before picking up one of the arm bracers and sliding his right arm through it. With his bracer locked into place, Kamille slid his left arm into the other bracer, locking it into place and doing a quick test with his arms for mobility, rotating his torso to make sure everything was a proper fit. He then picked up his helmet, and placed it onto his head, and locking its clasp onto his neck piece; the Ranger BDU has a sealed breathing system, to protect its wearer from gas attacks. Kamille then began pre-op checks on the BDU's systems.

VSIR. _Check._

HUD. _Check._

Communications. _Check._

IFF. _Check._

Satisfied that his battle armor is fit, secured and its systems operational, Kamille began equipping himself with his weapons; first, he placed five MI3 Fragmentation grenades on his belt, within easy reach of his throwing arm. He then took an MR135 Shotgun and placed it onto a magnetic holster his left shoulder. The MR134 Shotgun can fire eight shells, and automatically reloads. And finally, his primary weapon, an MP1 Assault Rifle. It has forty-five rounds per clip, and has three firing modes; automatic, semi-automatic, and burst. Built during the 2560s, it was designed to replace the MA5 series Assault Rifles, the Battle Rifles, and the Designated Marksmen's Rifles, all of which were considered to be too "specialized." With the MP1 series, it has all the strengths of all three weapons, packed into one.

Satisfied with his loadout, Kamille surveyed the rest of his squad, all clothed from head-to-foot in Ranger Battle armor.

Private Halfrid Dieter had chosen the PB-3 Assault Rifle as her main weapon; it has two firing modes, semi-automatic and burst, and has an underslung grenade launcher. Her secondary weapon is the M9C Magnum, which has a scope and fires fifteen rounds per clip. She clipped it to the magnetic holster on her left hip, while her right hip became leaden with five Frag grenades.

Private Angus Collins had selected for himself an Auto-36, a select-fire machine pistol with a fifty-round magazine, and a laser sight. His secondary weapon is an M945 revolving grenade launcher, with twelve grenades in the chambers. He's also equipped with EMP-5 grenades, designed to short-out unprotected electronic equipment.

Private Brannagh Hickey has chosen the M812 Light Machine Gun, or SAW (squad automatic weapon) as her main tool. She was going through a series of motions with the weapon, impressing Kamille as she fluidly wielded the twenty-kilo weapon, perfectly comfortable with its weight. Her secondary weapon is the monstrous Hydra MLRS-5, which fires high-explosive micro-missiles which can lock onto targets; it has nine rockets stored in its revolving, cylindrical chambers. She also has two Frag grenades, and three Incendiary grenades.

Private Diego Bautista decided to capitalize on his extraordinary strength wielding an M754D6 Minigun, a three-barreled machine guns which fires armor piercing rounds at six-thousand rounds per minute. His secondary weapon, slung over his shoulder, is the M81 Shotgun, a pump-action weapon which fires twelve rounds before needing to reload. He's also equipped with five flash-bang grenades.

Private Alkira Djinba has taken for herself an M60 sub-machine gun, which can be out-fitted with a wide array of attachments, such as a scope, an extended barrel, suppressor, laser targeter, and recoil stabilizers. She has chosen a suppressor. Slung over her shoulder is an M164 SPNKR rocket launcher; even though it is considered to be obsolete among UNSC Marines, it is highly popular among Army soldiers. She is also carrying five Incendiary grenades.

Kamille then turned to observe the experienced members of the squad, who are allowed, by tradition, to customize their armor; Kamille and the others will only receive that right after surviving their first tour of duty.

Corporal Anders is outfitted with the UA/Bullfrog Ranger BDU, which comes equipped with portable jump-jets. His primary weapon is the obsolete M528 DMR, which has a fifteen round clip, and a semi-automatic firing rate. His secondary weapon is the M78 Pilum rocket launcher, which fires a single missile but has a long range, and a high-explosive payload. He also has two smoke grenades, and three flash-bang grenades.

Corporal Chani Bari is equipped with the Sharpshooter BDU, issued for sniper experts. It's designed to give her more freedom in combat; the standard right pauldron is removed, allowing the sniper to aim better and move her arm more freely, while the standard left pauldron is replaced with a larger plate to protect her arm from counter attacks. She is also issued with an O/I (ocular/Integration) optics device attached to her helmet, granting her enhanced vision. Her primary weapon is the SRS99-8 AM Sniper Rifle, with twelve rounds per clip, and outfitted with a silencer. Her secondary weapon is the antique MA37 Assault Rifle, a staple of the UNSC Army for over a hundred and fifty years. She has five smoke grenades.

Sergeant Mulan Cheng is clad in the up-armored variant of the Ranger BDU, the AR/UA PPE, utilized by demolition experts. The left pauldron is replaced with a longer two-piece ballistic plate, which aids in protecting her upper body while in a firing stance, and to reduce injury from incendiary-based weapons. The helmet is also issued with an optics device that aids the user in relaying images and video to team mates or command. Her primary weapon is the M812 Saw, and her secondary weapon is the M8K Spartan Laser; a directed-energy weapon, it can fire fifteen shots before the battery needs to be replaced. She is also equipped with five R-2 Sticky grenades, which are coated with an adhesive substance which allows them to stick to surfaces.

Lieutenant Alfred Winchester is equipped with the S-1 recon BDU, originally used specifically by agents of the Office of Naval Intelligence; it has now become available for use by Army Rangers, and is highly favored by officers. The chest plate provides stealth capabilities with little or no loss of endurance, done by reducing its IR signature and reflective surfaces. There are no shoulder pauldrons, which allows more freedom of arm movements, and is also equipped with a Recon helmet, which is also utilized by Spartan-Vs. His primary weapon is the BR77 Battle rifle, which fires in three-round bursts. His secondary weapon is the ARC-184 Railgun, an electromagnetic linear accelerator weapon which uses a pair of conducting rails to accelerate projectiles at high velocities. He has also attached five Incendiary grenades to his belt.

Nine men and women, armoured from head-to-foot in dark-grey titanium-ceramic plate, and equipped with enough firepower to wipe out a small army. And the best part is, they won't be fighting alone; they've got the rest of Harvest's Defence Force to back them up in the coming attack.

It was at 2208 Hours last night, the 31st of August, when an unidentified vessel breached the space above Harvest and began scanning everything in sight before leaving just as abruptly as it arrived. Needless to say, it wasn't long before General Jenkins ordered a full mobilization of all military assets on Harvest, to prepare for an impending pirate raid. In a few hours' time, civilians from all over the colony will be rounded up and evacuated to Utgard's emergency shelters for the duration of the raid.

 _Honestly, why did the pirates have to choose last night to send their scout in?_ thought kamille bitterly. The timing was simply uncanny, as Kamille had the whole of yesterday off, and he had spent the night with a local woman, named Tandia. Or was it Nadia? Or Chandra? Kamille shook his head. Her name isn't important; what is important is that she was a thirty-eight year old cougar with a rockin' body, and was willing to look past his feminine charms and invite him over for a night of hot, wild sex. And then, in the middle of the night as they were cuddling together and sharing each other's warmth, the order for mobilization came in, and he had to leave. And he forgot to get her phone number and address, dammit! A woman like her only comes once every lifetime.

 _Life just isn't fair!_

Kamille shook his head again. As frustrating as it is, he is also quite excited for what's to come: his first taste of battle. Kamille shuddered involuntarily. When he thinks of combat, he pictures himself hurling himself through a hail of gun-fire, shells falling and exploding all around him, the sight of bloodied, mangled bodies dotting the landscape. And then the picture always ends with his arm getting blown off, and getting his eyes gouged out by grinning pirates.

It gives him the shakes.

But the shakes quickly passes by, when he reminds himself that he is heavily Armored and is armed with the deadliest weapons ever forged by Man, and is surrounded by his squad, who'll back him up every step of the way.

 _All right, Kamille, buddy,_ he thought to himself, steeling himself up for the war to come. _Time to fake it 'till you can make it!_

* * *

 **September 1st, 2597 (Military Calendar) 1720 Hours**

 **Epsilon Indi system, Harvest**

 **Command Bunker**

When people look at General Wallace A. Jenkins, they would be very surprised to learn that he is ninety-two years old; that's because he looks half that age, in his mid-forties. General Jenkins was one of hundreds of marines to volunteer for the Spartan-IV Project, and the genetic augmentations he received doubled his natural lifespan. His mind is a vast wealth of experience, accumulated through decades of combat against pirates and Insurrectionists. Ten years ago, when the Insurrection came to a climactic, galaxy-shaking end, Jenkins was offered the opportunity to return to his home colony of Harvest, which he hadn't seen for _sixty_ years, and defend it from the dregs of the Galaxy. It was an opportunity he couldn't pass up.

General Jenkins can easily remember his feelings upon steeping upon his home soil for the first time in six decades; it felt like he was soaring towards the heavens on the wings of angels. Overcome with emotion, he had cried upon returning home. _Cried._

The General shook himself out of his reminiscence; this wasn't the time to go down memory lane, not with another fleet of barbarians bearing down on his world, ready to loot and pillage. He studied the displays, providing him with real-time images of the pirate fleet orbiting Harvest; it was, undoubtedly, the largest pirate fleet he had ever seen in his ten years of commanding Harvest's Defense Forces. There seems to be one cruiser, fifteen frigates, and thirty-two corvettes, as well as two scout ships (matching the one spotted last night).

Their design is….unusual, to say the least. They were curved, graceful, and smooth. Some appeared to be hawkish, shaped like birds-of-prey. Others appeared to be bulbous, metallic jelly-fish, floating about the void, completely at ease. Why these pirates chose such bizarre aesthetic designs for their craft, he had no idea, and neither did he care; it isn't his job to critique their artistic tastes, but to defend Harvest until the pirates withdraw, or they are forced to retreat by UNSC reinforcements.

Around the General was the constant pitter-patter of frantic activity, with officers working to organize troops and heavy armor for the impending attack. General Jenkins snorted in amusement. Such a task shouldn't be too difficult; they all know the drill, they've gone through it dozens of times over the last ten years. They always implement the same plan to defend Harvest: evacuate the civilians to the emergency shelters, mobilize the troops and disperse them across the landscape and the settlements, supported by heavy armor, reinforce the garrison posted inside the _Tiara_ , and contact UNSC HIGHCOMM and request reinforcements.

And after all that's done, the defenders of this world will fight until their very last.

* * *

 **Author's Note**

 **Well, I hope I didn't bore anyone with all my talk about the weapons and equipment and whatnot. Seriously, there were times when i wanted to hit myself in the head every time I wrote "Also, he/she has this many grenades," or when I said " His/Her primary or secondary weapon is this," Ugh!**

 **Also, I hope people weren't too bored with Viktor's internal monologue about fleet logistics and whatnot. It's something I've noticed is usually glossed over in sci-fi, and I felt like I needed to address it.**

 **And I've brought jenkins into the story, the wet-behind-the-ears kid who got his body hijacked in Halo:The Flood. Basically, in my story, Spartan augmentations increase life spans, so expect to see the Chief and his buddies.**

 **For those who wanted an action-packed chapter, I'm so sorry; but, If you're willing to stick with me, then you'll get non-stop action starting from the next chapter.**

 **Read and review, please!**

 **So, long and thanks for all the fish!**


	4. Chapter 3: Space Fight

**Disclaimer: I do not own Halo or Mass Effect; I wish I did, but I don't.**

* * *

 **September 21** **st** **, 2657 (GST)**

 **Enemy-settled system**

 **Enemy Space Station**

Racing down the large corridor, her breath hot and heavy inside her helmet, Liara rounded a sharp corner, only to be met by a hailstorm of bullets; quickly, Liara ducked behind cover, bringing her left fist up in a halting gesture, her Asari comrades stopping in their tracks.

The tallest Asari, dressed in light purple armour, addressed Liara: "What's it look like down there, T'soni?"

"Six hostiles captain," replied Liara breathlessly, adrenaline pumping in her veins. "They're taking cover behind three barricades in a triangle formation; the barricade in the centre is protecting an emplaced Heavy Machine-gun?"

Captain Kalyssa D'lor nodded. "All right, here's the play: T'soni, I want you to launch a Singularity at the Machine-gun operator." At Liara's nod, Captain D'lor turned her attention to an Asari Commando in white armour, Valerius Vidoris. "Vidoris, I want you to follow up with a Warp; burn the pyjack to cinders, and I'll take care of the rest."

"Aye, aye Captain," replied Vidoris, her tone cheeky. "Do you want the Natives to be cooked medium rare, or well done?" At the Captain's blank stare, Vidoris simply shrugged her shoulders and muttered, "whatever," under her breath. Ten years younger than Liara, Vidoris is a constant source of tasteless jokes and witless comments. Still, Liara and Captain D'lor tolerate her behaviour, knowing it to be a coping mechanism, helping her deal with the rigors of combat.

And it also helps to lighten the mood during tense situations.

Turning her back to Liara and Vidoris, Captain D'lor spoke to the commander of the accompanying Turian platoon – a Lieutenant Zarek – and advised them to stand back and let the Commandoes deal with this minor annoyance. In the meantime, Liara carefully poked her head around the corner, to observe the defending natives. There they are: a new race among the stars, and surprisingly, another race similar to the Asari, though the fur on their heads would tie them much closer to the Zholan in appearance. Clad in their grey armour, hiding behind their barricades, the natives were talking amongst themselves in their exotic language; not as smooth and cultured as High Thessian, but an odd mixture between the Sharp Turian and brutal Krogan languages.

" _Fuck! Why didn't anyone think to bring any grenades!?"_

" _Who needs a grenade when we've got a turret?"_

" _Oh, I don't know, so we can flush out the fucking alien invaders from behind cover! Genius!"_

"… _.So, why didn't you bring any grenades?"_

" _Shut up!"_

Liara smirked. She didn't know what they were saying, but she could tell that they were agitated; the pressure is clearly getting to them, making them careless and tense, which is good for Liara and her squad.

"All right, T'soni," said Captain D'lor, getting the younger Asari's attention. "When you're ready."

Liara nodded, took a deep breath, and began channelling biotic energy through her body; an intense, burning sensation spread along her nervous system, setting fire to her veins, super-charging her from head-to-toe with extraordinary cosmic power beyond the reach of mere mortals. With biotic energy crackling throughout her body, she pivoted out from cover and flung out her left arm, releasing a pulsating orb of biotic power, which sped towards the machine-gun operator; but Liara didn't stop to see the Singularity strike the machine-gun operator. She was already flinging herself behind cover, opposite to her fellow commandoes and Turian Troopers. Hearing the sounds of dismayed cries from the natives, Liara peaked behind cover, more boldly than last time, and saw the machine-gun operator thrashing about wildly as he orbited the black, pulsating orb the Singularity, hanging high above, as its comrades stared gapingly at him, shouting in their native language.

" _Space magic!"_

" _Are you fucking kidding me!?"_

" _This is the work of Gypsies!"_

Unfortunately for the natives, Valerius took advantage of their distraction to make her move; her body wrapped in a Mass Effect field, Valerius fired a Warp at Liara's Singularity, causing a violent, planet-cracking explosion which engulfed the machine-gunner, simultaneously blowing him to pieces and charring his remaining body parts. Liara shielded her eyes from the glaring light which filled the corridor, temporarily blinding the remaining defenders.

When the light subsided, Liara noticed a blackened mass of flesh on the floor nearby; she didn't have time to dwell on this disturbing imagery, as Captain D'lor casually approached the entrance to the enemy-held corridor, with a grenade in her left hand; when she pressed a button on the top, activating the weapon, Liara got a good view of what type of grenade it was, and her eyes widened.

A Thannix Grenade! A brutal weapon salvaged from the Yahg.

With expert grace, Captain D'lor smoothly rolled the grenade towards the enemy, and when it reached between the barricades, she detonated it; Liara cowered behind cover, her eyes shut tightly as a bright red flash consumed the native defenders, showering them with molten metal, their agonized wails sounding throughout the corridor, steam billowing about them as the molten metal burned through their armour, then slowly through their skin, muscles and bone, so slowly.

The Yahg definitely knew how to make weapons that _punish._

"The coast is clear, let's go," declared Captain D'lor, her face impassive as she looked at what remained of the native defenders. "That door behind the central barricade should lead to this station's control centre. One more push, and the mission will be over."

And that is something Liara would be very happy about; she's already spent too much time on this goddess-damned station with stubborn and hostile natives and their primitive weapons that pack too much punch. It doesn't help much knowing that down below is a colony-world waiting to be conquered, no doubt with tens of thousands of these natives, reinforced with air support and heavy armour.

This campaign has only just begun, but judging from the battle for this station, it has all the makings of a fine bloodbath.

As her squad led the Turian platoon to the bulkhead doors, Liara (who was taking point), saw that one of the natives was still barely alive, but in horrible agony, gasping and thrashing about the floor; without hesitation, Liara aimed her Shuriken and fired a short, controlled burst, peppering the creature with slugs, killing it and putting it out of its misery.

Sometimes it surprises Liara, how easily she is able to take lives, considering she never wanted to be a soldier, or believed that she had the tits for combat.

Her dream in life was to be an archaeologist, to uncover and study the secrets of long-dead civilizations; specifically, the Protheans. That enigmatic race lost to the sands of time had utterly fascinated Liara, for without them, and the technology they left behind, Galactic Civilization would not exist. It was only because they had built the Mass Relays and the Citadel, that the Asari, Salarians, Turians, and the races under their authority, have come so far, and achieved so much. And yet, despite everything the Protheans accomplished, their civilization fell, their race extinguished, leaving behind nothing but their greatest works of engineering, and a few dilapidated outposts scattered across the Known Galaxy.

How can the Citadel Council avoid the same fate?

It was that thought which drove Liara's desire to become an archaeologist, the naive belief that by studying the Prothean's failure as a species and civilization, she could use that knowledge to ensure the long-term survival of modern Galactic Civilization, and enable them to endure forever. But Liara knows better now: nothing lasts forever. Civilizations rise and fall, and species will grow and prosper, and eventually become extinct, just as assuredly as Liara will grow old and die. The Asari, Salarians, Turians, even the Yahg, will fade away and become extinct after their moment in the sun, to be replaced by newer, younger races. All of this would go on and on, in a never-ending cycle, until the Universe itself dies of entropy.

Liara now understood why her mother had so disdained her dreams.

Of course, Liara never had a choice in regards to her future path; as she turned thirty years old, she was conscripted into the Asari Republics Military. The Asari Militarization Act was a bitter pill to swallow for many young Maidens, who under different circumstances, would be spending their first centuries hiring themselves out as Mercenaries or pole dancing in sleazy nightclubs, but with the Yahg aggressively pressing against their borders, it's just what had to be done. And Liara had supported the Act, seeing its necessity, but only in theory; when it actually came time for her to step up, she felt quite weak and small, unsure of herself.

Despite her misgivings, Liara excelled at bootcamp; it wasn't a picnic by any stretch of the imagination, but she did better than her fellow cadets, not because she was unique or specially talented, but because her mother, Matriarch Benezia, had arranged for her to be given commando training during her youth, which had already conditioned her for life in the military. Liara complained every step of the way (as she always did every time she was pulled away from her studies), but in the long run, it greatly benefited her; the fact that her training was overseen by her 'father,' Matriarch Aethyta, had provide something of an incentive for her. Liara saw so little of Aethyta, she was happy to spend as much time with her as possible, especially when Benezia became unbearable in their disagreements.

Over the course of seventy-six long years, her career in the Asari Republics Military has moulded Liara from a naïve, socially awkward young lady, to a hardened and confident commando. She still keeps up to date with the latest discoveries in the field of archaeology, but now, her life as a warrior has begun to define her, as she has spent less time as a civilian.

As Liara and her squad drew close to the bulkhead doors, she heard Lieutenant Zarek bark a few orders at his men, prompting one of them rush ahead to the doors, carrying a breaching device in his hands, which he then attached to the doors. Captain D'lor turned to Liara: "T'soni, get a smoke grenade primed and ready; when the bulkhead doors are breached, I want you to pop some smoke through."

Nodding in the affirmative, Liara took out a smoke grenade from a pouch on her hip, and moved up behind the Turian setting the breaching charge; just one more push, and the mission will end.

 **September 1** **st** **, 2597 (Military Calendar) 1930 hrs.**

 **Epsilon Indi System**

 **The Tiara, Control Centre.**

Major Jennifer Atkins cursed under her breath as she observed the invaders on her monitors; they have just breached the last line of defense leading to the control centre, and are now preparing breaching charges on the bulkhead doors.

The last thing Major Atkins would have expected was an alien invasion; pirates, yes, but not aliens. The battle began like a typical pirate raid, with the hostiles boarding the Tiara; standard procedure for pirates. But it was when the fighting began, when the invaders breached the hangar, that's when their strangeness revealed itself; they fired weapons which were clearly more advanced than anything the UNSC, NCA, or pirates have ever dreamed of (and which, unfortunately, don't seem to run out of ammunition). And then, there was the space magic; Major Atkins could not forget the moment when her jaw dropped in stupefaction when she witnessed one of the aliens light up like a blue star and fired some type of cosmic energy at her troops (fortunately, only one in ten of the aliens have this strange, telekinetic power; unfortunately, their lack of numbers didn't counter their effectiveness in battle.

And finally, there was the glaringly-obvious of the alien body structure of the majority of the invaders; their legs are bent in different ways, they have three digits on each hand, and they bleed purple-blue blood, a dead giveaway, really. In fact, one of her cameras managed to give her a close-up of a dead alien with its helmet blown off, and she saw a some-what avian face with a thick carapace and sharp teeth; Jennifer thought it looked like a turkey.

She wasted no time informing General Jenkins of the situation, who was quite visibly shocked but was quick to compose himself and assure her that he would inform HIGHCOMM ASAP and appraise them of the situation. In the meantime, her orders were to observe the enemy and compile as much Intel as possible; strengths, weaknesses, tactics and technology.

And Jennifer did just that: she observed as the invaders fought hard to gain control of the hangar, the 'witches' using their telekinetic abilities to strike at the machine-gun emplacements, creating barriers to protect themselves and the 'turkeys' from the relentless hail of bullets. She watched as the witches charged into a squad of troopers, its body a blue-glowing blur; she watched as bullets glanced off personal energy shields, seemingly unaffected, only to fail at the last minute and allow bullets to penetrate through the armor, and kill before the targets could get back behind cover and recuperate.

All too quickly, the invaders captured the hangar, and when that happened, Jennifer knew that the _Tiara_ would fall; with the invaders having gained a foothold in the station, they could send in more troops to reinforce and relieve the exhausted boarders. And when the invaders began to advance deeper into the _Tiara_ , they didn't rush into the waiting guns of the defenders; they took their time, used scouts to evaluate threats, and planned accordingly. The battle for the hangar was a bloodbath for the invaders, but the battle for the _Tiara_ was a careful, methodical advance which left more Humans dead, than aliens.

And now they've reached the _Tiara's_ nerve centre.

Jennifer gave an inward sigh and steeled herself for the coming fight by taking what will most likely be her final look at a picture of herself and her son, James Atkins. There she was, with her close-cropped blonde hair, black, squinting eyes, thin lips, pale skin, and a stern bearing only slightly softened by the eight-year old child held close to her chest; she was young back then only twenty-nine, but battle-hardened.

James is an adult now, a successful business-man, a devoted husband and father of two girls, Susan and Lillian. Jennifer doesn't know much about them, as she has trouble keeping in contact with James, and even then, he is reluctant to engage in much small-talk with her. No one who would glance at her picture would guess that the beaming boy, leaning back into his mother's embrace, would grow to resent her for her many absences throughout his childhood and teenage years. As she would go away for months at a time, Jennifer would leave him in the care of her sister, his beloved aunt Jill, who would treat him as her own son, but it was never enough for James; what he wanted, what he _needed,_ was his mother. Unfortunately, the UNSC needed her and every able-bodied man and woman to put down the Insurrection.

Jennifer shook her head and slipped the picture under her breast plate; she is a highly decorated officer in the UNSC military, a veteran of some of the bloodiest battles of the Insurrection, but she royally fucked-up as a mother, as Jill is fond of pointing out to her. When she first enlisted into the UNSC, it was because she and her friends wanted adventure and the opportunity to explore the colonies, but after James was born, she wanted to fight as hard as she could so that he could live in peace in a galaxy no longer torn apart by war; in the end, though, it was her dedication to her duty and her desire to protect James that drove a wedge between them.

And now, at forty-eight years old, Jennifer feels like an old lady, burdened by bitterness and regret, and waiting and hoping for the day when James can find it in his heart to forgive her, or when death comes for her like an old friend.

Clearly, this is the day for the latter.

Slapping her grey helmet onto her head, Jennifer silently fumed to herself as she contemplated her failed relationship with James, and the coming battle with the enemy. _What was it all for anyway?! I spend years of my life fighting hard to end the Insurrection, only for James to resent me; sure, I can take solace in the fact that he is happy with his family and successful in his livelihood, but how long will that last now that we're facing the prospect of a new, all-out war? It's been ten years since the end of the Insurrection, and we're still picking up the pieces; what if the aliens run rough-shod all over us in our weakened state? What will become of Humanity? Of James? Will the aliens enslave us, or exterminate us? Are all the sacrifices I've made worthless, now that a new war is on the horizon?_

Handling her M135 Shotgun, she began to load it with eight shells, then switched it to automatic reload - she won't need to pump the barrel - and then she strapped it around her shoulder. She then began to adjust her M0 Submachine gun, attaching a recoil stabilizer. Satisfied with her weapon load out, Jennifer made her way to the stairwell, atop which stood a soldier manning Machine Gun emplacement, pointed towards the bulkhead doors behind which the invaders are preparing to storm the control centre; on either side of the stairs were five soldiers taking cover behind deployable barricades – two on the left, and three on the right. And in front of the barricades are several rows of consoles leading up to the walls on either side of the bulkhead doors; Jennifer narrowed her eyes at the consoles, knowing that the enemy will most likely use them for cover.

Walking down the stairs, she took position on the left-hand barricade, and looked around at the young men she'll be fighting with; a cursory glance was enough to understand that morale is low among them, a feeling of mournful resignation filling them up as they contemplated their doom at the hands of the inhuman monsters on the other side of the bulkhead doors. As she observed the men around her, Jennifer realized, with a bitter taste in her mouth, that she'll need to boost morale through some kind of speech, and Jennifer was not one for speeches; no, she commanded loyalty and respect with a cold and firm hand, not with flowery, uplifting speeches. But desperate times call for desperate measures.

"All right boys, listen up and listen good!" She began, eyeing the soldiers one by one, her lips twisting and twitching as though what she has to say is making her sick; the men, for their part, are watching her as though expecting her to chew them up and spit them out for some trivial reason, such as not being cheerful at the prospect of dying in this floating tin-can, in the ass-end of the Galaxy, far away from their homes and their loved ones.

"If we're lucky, then decades from now, armies of academics will note this day as the day when the age-old question of whether or not we are alone in the Universe is answered, and will likely spend thousands of ours debating about what it all means; me personally, I think those academics should spend more time and effort on the question of 'how will we fool women into seeing past our nerdy exteriors so that we can get laid and die happy, and not sexually frustrated.'" Some dry chuckles from the boys, much of the tension alleviating.

"Seriously, that's only if we're lucky; we don't know much about these aliens. We don't know about their goals, how big their territory and military is, or how old they are as a space-faring civilization. But we do know one thing, and it's really all we need to know: they are here looking for a fight, and by God, we'll give them one! Everything we do up here in the Tiara, everything General Jenkins and the Harvest Defense Force does down there is going to affect how these aliens perceive our species as a whole, and so, we must show them our teeth! We must show them that we're not going to bend over for them simply because they've smashed down the front door and punched us in the faces!"

Many of her boys were nodding at her now, caught up in her passionate speech-so was she, come to think of it. "I'm sure you all have loved ones-parents, sisters, friends, many even a girl you're sweet on; no doubt the thought of never seeing them again horrifies you, but take comfort in the fact that by fighting and dying here, you'll be keeping them safe from the coming war. Take comfort in that." Jennifer certainly does, and can only hope that when her body is brought to Earth after the conflict is resolved, James will come to understand and accept her choices in life; hopefully, he'll understand that she did it all for him.

A thumping sound from the bulkhead doors drew her attention, followed by the sizzling sound of a torch burning through metal; Jennifer and her comrades braced themselves, aiming weapons at the bulkhead doors that are now sparking and smoking, a flame cutting through like knife through butter. And then the flaming torch died, revealing a circular hole through the bulkhead doors, out of which came a small round object, dropping down, clattering on the floor.

Grenade!

A great mass of smoke erupted from the grenade, mushrooming until it obscured the bulkhead doors, blinding the defenders; from behind the smoke came the sounds of grinding metal, the doors being pried open. And from within the smoke, came shifting, shadowy shapes.

"Gunner, open fire!" barked Major Atkins. "Blanket those doors!"

Immediately, the thunderous sounds of lead being propelled at one-thousand, one-hundred metres per second filled the control room, as the gunner blanketed the entrance with a barrage of death; even though the enemy can't be seen through the smoke, the chaingun's high rate of fire will ensure some casualties, and sure enough, Jennifer could hear the satisfying sounds of bullets smashing through flesh, limbs tearing apart, and dying screams.

But some aliens made it through, taking cover behind the consoles; the soldier on her left took a shot at an advancing alien, downing it as it thrashed at its bleeding throat. Spying a gun pointing out from behind a console, Jennifer quickly ducked behind the barricade, just as shots pinged against it. In response, Jennifer raised her SMG above the barricade, blind-firing at her assailant; hearing nothing more than metallic pings, she assumed that she missed, and retracted her weapon behind cover.

Hearing a cry of pain from behind, Jennifer looked over her shoulder to see the Chaingun Operator lying on his side, clutching at his bloody leg; his pathetic groans were quickly silenced by several shots to his chest, killing him. Poor bastard couldn't have been older than twenty.

Peeking her head out from cover, Jennifer saw the smoke dissipating at long last, revealing the corridor beyond to be filled with aliens, and at the forefront were three Witch-aliens, clad from head-to-foot in exotic armour, strolling through the Bulkhead doors like they owned he fucking place. Just watching them strut about made her blood boil; emerging from behind cover, Jennifer fired her SMG at one of the Witches. Unfortunately, her target has already seen, and began a mad dash for cover; Jennifer only managed to hit the aliens' energy shield.

Jennifer gasped as she was lifted high into the air, her body shrouded in purple-blue light; wildly looking around, she found the cause, saw one of the Witches with her arm directed at her, and with a flicking gesture, Jennifer was roughly flung over the stairs and she crashed into the wall, her head ringing sharply despite the protection afforded by her helmet, and she fell to the floor.

With her head pounding and her vision blurry, Jennifer got up to her hands and knees, her shotgun dropping down as its strap slid off her shoulder; dimly, she can hear the sounds of gunfire, and of her boys crying out as they died. Sitting up, with her back propped up against the wall and facing the stairs, Jennifer realized that everything had gone silent, which could mean only one thing: she is alone with the enemy. Hearing footsteps coming up the stairs, Jennifer grasped her shotgun and pointed it at the coming alien, her finger on the trigger.

A sit quickly emerged from the stairs, Jennifer fired her shotgun at the alien, hoping to stuff it full of buck-shot; but the alien was ready, raising her left arm to generate an energy barrier, protecting her; then, with a slash of its right arm, Jennifer's shotgun was pulled from her grasp, alien energy sending it clattering on the floor. Then, with inhuman speed, the alien charged towards Jennifer, grabbed her still-recovering body, lifted her up to her feet, ripped the helmet from her head, and forced her head against the wall.

A burning pain, a bright flash, and then darkness and silence.

 **September, 1** **st** **, 2597 (Military Calendar) 20:00 hrs.**

 **Epsilon Indi System**

 **Orbit of Harvest**

The Sabre Space fighter developed by the NCA during the 2560s was an underpowered piece of junk that required a vertical launch, staged rocket-system in order to reach the orbit of a planet; this is probably due to the fact that the Sabres were originally atmospheric fighters which were modified for orbital usage. In contrast, the YSS-3,000 Sabre, developed by the UNSC, is superior to the old model in every way; for example, it is perfectly capable of entering and leaving the atmosphere under its own power without relying on primitive rockets that wouldn't have looked out of place on spacecraft made in ancient times, before Interplanetary Colonization (but that's not saying much, when you consider the fact that most UNSC craft, such as the Pelican and the Longsword, are capable of doing so, as well). It's amazing, really, that the NSA managed to grab the UNSC by the balls when they had such 'brilliant' minds heading their R and D division.

These were the thoughts that occupied Lieutenant Commander David Elliot's thoughts as he and his RIO, Lieutenant Misa Ichijyo, held on tightly as their Sabre rose high above Harvest, the cloudy overcast giving way to blue sunlit skies. The Sabre shuddered violently as it breached Harvest's upper atmosphere, day quickly turning to darkest night, stars shining through the gulf of space; alongside his Sabre, were the flaming trails of hundreds more Sabres and dozens of Longsword fighters.

And floating in orbit above Harvest is the alien fleet, numbering at nearly fifty. Hopefully, at the end of their strike, there'll be less.

"Whoa, such an eyesore!" exclaimed one of Elliot's wingmen, Corporal Lassalle Dyson, a cocky young woman from Mars and an ace pilot; she could run loops around the best pilots in the Outer Colonies. "We so need to pull the rug out from their feet, before they get it in their heads the moronic idea that they're welcome to go to town on us!"

"While I agree that the invaders need a boot up the backside, I wouldn't go so far as to say that their fleet is an eyesore," countered Elliot's second wingman, Corporal Jack Evans in a calm, easy going tone. "In fact, I think their ships are quite pleasing to look at." Elliot couldn't help but agree: the alien ships were nothing like the ships built by Human hands. They were smooth and graceful, whereas UNSC ships were rough and ugly.

Dyson snorted contemptuously. "Sure, they look nice, but can they withstand the kind of punishment that our ships can tank? They don't look tough, is all I'm saying."

"They've probably eschewed heavy armour on their ships, to make them more maneuverable in combat," suggested Elliot, his eyes never leaving the enemy vessels.

"Elliot!" exclaimed Lieutenant Ichijyo, her voice snapping him out of his thoughts. "I've got multiple contacts coming from the alien fleet – about three-hundred Interceptors!"

"All right, people, listen up!" chimed in Captain Aaron Ulanhu on the radio. "It seems we've poked the hornet's nest and they've come out to sting us. Those Interceptors are between us and our targets, the enemy flagship and its escort of Frigates; so take them out and protect the Longsword fighters at all costs. Captain Ulanhu out!"

"Well guys, it seems we're about to dance all night long with the invaders," said Elliot, as he casually observed the advancing tide of enemy Interceptors. "Are you ready?"

"I was born ready, sir," stated Dyson cockily, and Elliot could almost hear the smirk in her voice.

"Ready and able, sir," confirmed Evans confidently, calm and collected, as always.

The enemy Interceptors got close enough for Elliot to see them with the naked eye; to him, they looked like flying arrowheads. When they reached engagement range, Elliot was the first to dive into the fray, his wingmen closely following. With a pull of the trigger on his stick a torrent of armour-piercing bullets struck the lead Interceptor, the pilot canopy shattering and the engines tearing apart, a great spark of flame exploding and guttering out in mere moments, starved of oxygen in the vacuum of space.

A dozen more explosions among the enemy formation confirmed that his comrades had hit their targets spot on; but now, the enemy's counter-attack begins. Alarms sounded in Elliot's cockpit, alerting him that he has been locked-on; one enemy Interceptor in front of him had launched a pair of torpedoes, shining like two blue dwarf stars and flying straight at him!

"Evasive manoeuvres!" barked Elliot, sharply pulling back on the stick and causing his Sabre to pull up, the two torpedoes following closely on his heels. "Launching flares!" announced Elliot, his left hand pulling on a lever above him. Immediately, a flurry of red-burning flares erupted out of the Sabre, their brightly-burning light confusing the sensors on the torpedoes, causing them to detonate prematurely. Before Elliot could sigh in relief, however, he was already under attack from behind and he rolled the Sabre to dodge the flurry of projectiles from the pursuing Interceptor.

"Sir, hostile contact coming from behind and closing fast!" reported Ichijyo, and Elliot had to refrain from rolling his eyes and snapping at her: he didn't need her to tell him what had already become obvious. Pulling the stick to the left, Elliot began to bank sideways to avoid the deadly hail of projectiles from his pursuer, but no matter how much he rolled or turned, he couldn't shake off his enemy.

"Friendly approaching from behind, sir!" reported Ichijyo, just as the incoming from the pursuing Interceptor halted abruptly. "Er, sir, the enemy seems to have been neutralized and Corporal Dyson is approaching from behind." And sure enough, Dyson's Sabre pulled up next to theirs.

"Thanks, Dyson," said Elliot gratefully over the comm. "I owe you one."

She snorted and replied jovially: "More than one."

"Yeah, yeah, time to get back into the action!"

But there was no longer a battle. The enemy Interceptors were already eliminated at the cost of half of the Sabres. Regrouping with his other wingman, Elliot and his squadron then enveloped a Longsword fighter, protecting it as all the gathered space fighters headed for the enemy fleet.

Protecting the Destroyer, no doubt the enemy's flagship, was a mass of frigates and corvettes: they need to be destroyed first, before they can reach the Destroyer. As they approached the enemy fleet, the Longsword fighters began to fly ahead of the Sabres, acquiring target locks and preparing to fire their Shiva-class nuclear warheads.

And when their targets were in range, two dozen Longsword fighters fired their Shiva Nukes, smoke trailing behind the weapons of mass destruction as they flew true towards their targets; but suddenly, and without warning, thin golden beams sprung out from the enemy warships, striking the nukes head-on and causing them to explode, dozens of hot, blazing stars erupting before them.

Then the light from the nukes faded and the lasers from the invaders struck down many sabres and Longswords, until the UNSC forces turned and retreated from the massacre. But one of Elliot's wingmen, Corporal Evans, was engulfed in flames and flying metal as he was struck down during the retreat, much to Elliot's and Dyson's rage.

"Those bastards are going to pay for that!"

As the Sabres regrouped beyond the reach of the enemy ships point defense lasers, Captain Ulanhu spoke up through the comms. "We lost a quarter of our forces in that sortie, and forty-eight of our Longsword fighters depleted their ordnance of Shiva Nukes. Not only that, but when one of our Sabres was shot at, it swerved and crashed into an energy barrier protecting one of the enemy ships." He paused to let that sink into the listening squadrons. "We're not sure how much damage that barrier can withstand before collapsing, or whether or not all the ships have one; it's best for us to err on the side of caution and assume that the enemy ships are protected by one.

"Here's the plan: the Sabres and Longswords will attack sequentially, in two waves. When the first wave of Longswords fire their Shiva Nukes, the escorting Sabres are to fire whatever missiles they have left in their inventory; the large number of missiles covering the nukes will hopefully confuse the targeting sensors of those point defense lasers, increasing the likelihood of a nuke slipping through and striking its target. Hopefully, the first wave of nukes will bring down those energy barriers, allowing the second wave to neutralize the ships."

And then Captain Ulanhu began to assign which squadrons are to be in which wave, and Elliot and Dyson were thrilled to know that they were in the first wave; they now have the chance to deal a decisive blow against the invaders and avenge their wingman, Evans.

"See you on the other side, Dyson," said Elliot somberly, as his Sabre and squadron charged towards the waiting enemy ships, floating serenely, completely at ease, without a care in the Universe.

"Drinks are on me, sir," replied Dyson, her normal jovial tone replaced by solemnity. And as they reached engagement range with the enemy vessels, all the Sabres and all the Longswords in the first wave expelled all of their ordnance, hundreds of speeding, smoking missiles lunging towards the enemy, like a great wall of death, and though the enemy's lasers struck down many, some made it through, striking the barriers. The Nukes worked their fiery magic of death, engulfing the ships in a blinding flash light; but Elliot didn't see the light subside. When he tried to turn his Sabre away, to retreat and make way for the second wave, a laser struck through his Sabre's canopy, melting through the glass, piercing his chest, burning, searing and blazing through the engines, causing them to explode, destroying Elliot and his Sabre.

His death was instantaneous.

 **September 1** **st** **, 2657 (GST) 20:52 hrs.**

 **Enemy Settled System**

 **Palavan's Fist**

 **Orbit of enemy Colony-World**

Although he appeared to be calm on the outside, Vice Admiral Viktor Cassius was absolutely furious and aghast as he observed the fiery and broken remains of three frigates and one cruiser as they drifted towards the enemy colony-world, caught in its gravity well.

The Pacification Campaign is off to a bad start.

Sure, the Space Station was taken and claimed by his forces, and several enemy soldiers were captured and are being ferried over to the Palavan's Fist, to be placed in the brig as prisoners; but there were too many casualties and the Space Elevators connected to the station are locked down, rendered useless to his forces. A whole lot of bloodshed for little strategic gain, except for the prisoners, cadavers to be given to the Salarians as biological specimens, and salvaged enemy weapons, to be studied for weaknesses.

And shortly after the station was conquered, his fleet came under attack by Space Fighters of all things; at first, he was disdainful at the desperation of the Natives, sending those fighters to engage ships of war. After all, Space Fighters are only used by the CDF for defensive purposes, so what use would the Natives' fighters be against his ships?

Once more, Viktor fell victim to his assumptions.

Viktor sighed. Regardless of these setbacks, his fleet is still strong and the Natives seemed to have exhausted their space assets; the orbit of this colony-world now belongs to him. From orbit, he'll 'e able to identify military bases, communications relays, transportation networks, refueling hubs and other vital industries. He'll use his ships to blast the military bases from orbit, whittle down their defenses to make it easier for General Longinus to lead the invasion planetside.

Viktor can only hope that General Longinus can conquer the colony before the Natives send reinforcements; if not, then his ground forces would be fighting a battle on two fronts, with the defenders on the ground and Interplanetary Troops arriving from orbit, while Viktor's fleet would need to contend with the Natives' Navy, and whatever exotic weapons and technology they would have at their disposal.

And should Viktor lose the future battle in space and is forced to withdraw, then General Longinus and his forces would be trapped between a rock and a hard place, with no means of escape.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Damn this is awkward; If you're mad at me, I won't blame you. I know what it's like to wait forever and ever for a story to update and for that, you have my apologies.**

 **Truth is, I've been very nervous about this chapter as it's the first time I've ever written action sequences and I just couldn't help procrastinating over it; Doom coming out in May certainly didn't help at all. I was planning to continue this in October, but then came Gears of War 4, Titanfall 2 and COD: Infinite Warfare(which blows, big time). I've also had to do a whole lot of jobsearching throughout the year, applying for jobs and getting rejected all the bloody time, so my unemployed ass has also been highly depressed.**

 **But it's all over and done with: I AM going to continue this story and I WILL finish it!**

 **R and R, and thanks for all the fish!**


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